Chris Hardie

Farewell summer. I’d like to say I knew you well, but your time this year seemed far too short.

Welcome fall. I’m sure I’ll be saying the same thing about your presence when we slip into winter far too soon.

The signs of fall are more than the color change in the woods. One of the first annual signs is the departure of the barn swallows. Our old dairy barn – which is a virtual aviary for the dozens of mud and grass nests starting in late spring – is silent. The birds left a few weeks ago for their seasonal migration to Central and South America.

It’s fun watching the swallows swoop and dive all summer long eating mosquitoes, gnats and other insects. They can eat up to 60 insects per hour and follow me around when I’m mowing.

It’s a shame that they don’t stick around and develop a taste for yellow jackets, because they seem to be particularly plentiful and annoying this year.

The seasonal life of yellow jackets results in their aggressiveness this time of year. According to the Farmers Almanac, their colonies begin in the spring when a queen that survived the winter selects a new nesting site. The first generation of workers begin to gather food and build the nest as the queen continues to lay eggs.

What begins as a small nest can grow to hundreds or thousands of yellow jackets by the end of the summer. The hornets become frantic for food and swam to anything edible with the vigor of college students sniffing out beer parties.

But similar to what happens when someone says the cops are on the way to the beer party, the population thins out as the fall frosts begin. The old colony dies out and a new queen finds a protected place to spend the winter.

The yellow jackets were surely swarming as we started to pick our apples. Normally, I just tolerate them but I found out earlier this year that I am allergic to their sting. So we returned to the trees early in the morning when the temperatures were cooler and the hornet activity was less.

The warm late summer temperatures resulted in some of our trees ripening earlier than previous years, so we missed some apples. But my wife Sherry and I were able to pick enough apples for us to make some apple sauce and for freezing. The rest of the harvest went to my son Ross and grandson Samuel. They became part of a pressing that resulted in eight gallons of fresh cider.

Other fall chores await. The annual invasion of multi-colored lady Asian beetles looms, so I need to spray around the windows and doors as we try to keep them from coming into the house. The wood pile needs some additional work and the gardens need tending before the snow flies.

I know that not all the chores will be completed before winter takes hold. I will try to take some time to enjoy the cooler days, the blazing colors and the fall hunting season. Absorbing nature is good for the soul.

Time – relentless and without mercy – marches on. The change of the seasons marks the cadence. It’s a reminder that I’m growing older. And I’m OK with that.

When the swallows return next spring, I’ll welcome them like old friends.