By Shelly Patterson

It’s here — autumn, fall, whatever you call it! Cooler evening temperatures, recent rain and a hubbub of activity as the forest gets its cues to prepare for winter.

The larch trees will soon begin their spectacular change of foliage, the squirrels are gathering up the biggest pinecones, and the chipmunks are more determined than ever to get my ripening tomatoes before I do!

Yes, there is plenty for all of us to do as we prepare for a blanket of snow. But right now, Mother Nature is giving us the opportunity to slow down, observe and celebrate another beautiful season here on the mountain.

Whether you have lived here for years or months, most of us would agree that living in the midst of nature means we are both caretakers and visitors. These lands have long been home to Indigenous peoples and an abundance of wildlife, plants and natural habitats. Putting down roots here means learning to live alongside them — even when the deer decide that my garden is their personal buffet!

Potatoes, beans, tomatoes, squash, corn and cucumbers can all be grown here, but one of the real joys of fall is seeing the natural landscape continue to provide. As many summer flowers disappear, late-season plants become important sources of food for pollinators and other wildlife preparing for winter.

Leaving some natural areas undisturbed and allowing native, non-invasive plants to thrive can make a big difference. Goldenrod, asters, yarrow and, of course, fireweed can provide late-season nectar and pollen when fewer flowers are available.

Fireweed — A Fall Favourite
Top of my list is Fireweed, Epilobium angustifolium.

This prolific native wildflower is sometimes considered a weed, but here on the mountain I see it very differently. With its tall stems, dark green foliage and brilliant pink-magenta flowers, fireweed is a beautiful part of our late-summer and fall landscape — and a favourite with many pollinating insects.

At our home, we leave certain areas where fireweed can thrive. It seems to find life in the most unlikely places — rocky crevices, dry and hot areas and disturbed ground where many other plants might struggle.

There is something wonderful about watching the insects buzzing from patch to patch, taking advantage of this last burst of flowers before winter arrives.

I have spent the last six years researching, experimenting and learning about healthy, natural and non-invasive plants that can be incorporated into our mountain landscape. But more and more, I find myself appreciating that sometimes the best thing we can do is simply leave nature alone and let the plants that belong here do their job.

Soon the greens around us will become vibrant reds, yellows and oranges. The larches will turn golden, the evenings will grow colder and the mountain will settle into another season.

For now, though, there is still plenty to see — and plenty to appreciate.

So cheers to fall on Anarchist Mountain!

Take a walk, listen to the sounds around you, look closely at the plants and wildlife preparing for winter, and enjoy the remarkable ability of our mountain to adapt and change.

Sometimes the best way to care for nature is simply to give it a little room to be itself.