Taken from Eclectic Gardener @ http://www.teachinggarden.org/
written by Alan R Hickman

Since fall was made official recently, a hush has fallen over the fields, the woodlots and the wild places to the north of the city. Walking the dogs along a trail in the valley of the Credit River onthe weekend, the silence was palpable. The fallen leaves were slightly damp and didn't even rustle under foot; the trees in the windless air made neither movement nor sound and even the river water seemed to slip inaudibly around the rocks and driftwood.

The first frost had blackened the aptly named Onoclea sensibilis, the sensitive fern, and most all of the other ferns at least in some part brown. Throughout the woods, the plants have lost most of their foliage, and suddenly the trail is no longer a leafy tunnel through the unseen but has reconnected with the forest trees. To left and right though, nothing seems to stir.

To romantics, after the hi jinx of summer, the quiet of early fall in the countryside equates to peace and repose; but, inactivity is not in the nature of nature. On the forest floor, a nip of frost and a rain shower, and decaying tree stumps suddenly sprout white fungi to ripen and flood the air with spores. High in the trees, squirrels rip open cones and stuff themselves on the oily seeds.

Without human intervention, life is very much in business; it is just not shouting about it.

Althought the first frost hit the gardens at the Brampton Fairgrounds a couple of weeks ago, just minus one degree, but enought ot scorchsquash and pumpkin leaves; in town, it will likely be another week or two before we wake up to find the lawns and rooftops turned white overnight.

It seems so perverse. Looking through my study window today, trees are still green , the pelargoniums are in full bloom, and the fuchsias are covered in pink and purple and red ballerinas, dancing in the breeze. After all the effort to get the garden going, its finaly looking half decent and so soon, poof, all gone.

A couple of times already I've been asked what am I going to do now that gardening is over. Sorry, but I hadn't noticed that gardeneing was over.

At Peel Teaching Garden, there are crops to be harvested, potatoes to be dug, onions to be pulled. There is garlic to be planted and spring flowering bylbs to be added to the display areas. There are dahlias to be lifted and stored, and pelargoniums to be taken up and potted as stock platns for next year. There are beds to be remade, beds to be newly built, cold frames to be constructed, grass to be cut, pots and trays to be sorted for winter seeding and there is mulch to be laid and ditches to be dug.

True, the teaching garden is now a fair size for a volunteer operation - maybe 17,000 square feet under cultivation in the nursery area alone - but even in a condo patch, there is work to be done. Fall is the time for reorganizing, for building raised beds and for adding sand and compost to herbaceous borders.

It is a time for installing new compost bins and for emptying existing composters so that there is plenty of capacity for a winters' worth of frozen kitchen waste.

If you have lawn, it is cool enough to work and the grass is growing, so get a half inch of course sand lightly raked in as a top dressing. The sand, grass clippings and any shredded leaves will combine over winter to give the grass a boost in the spring.

Despite all the activity, even in the city, fall and the cool weather bring a degree of quiet. The shrieking kids, the blaring radios and the yapping dogs go away, the clattering lawn mowers go hide in the backs of garages and, for a few weeks, an urban gardener can enjoy in peace such fleeting hours of sunshine as there may be.

"So when are you last in the garden?"

"December, maybe, and garden classes start again on Jan. 9."


High Temperature:
Actual: 1°C mainly cloudy Wind NE17km/h P.O.P.5%
Average: 14°C
Record: 27°C in 1962

Low Temperature:
Actual: -7°C mostly cloudy Wind NNE16km/h P.O.P.4%
Average: 4°C
Record: -4°C in 1940