It feels a bit wrong, in the sultry September days that have so far graced the Island, to write about the changing of the seasons.

In this time of summer hustle, as the harvest of high-season gardens abound, I find my mind often turning to the subject of manure.

On our summer-centric, tourism fueled Island, we have lost a little something of the traditional, agrarian rhythms of New England.

It is tough to imagine the mindset of the first farmers, those pioneers of biological engineering who, consciously or not, began bending wild flora and fauna to human ends.

When Dr. Daniel Fisher cut a road through the woodlands, it was with agriculture in mind.

Bucolic is a word that often comes to mind on the Vineyard, where jaggy oak forests give way to rolling, soft green pastures.

The strawberry festival at Morning Glory Farm last weekend was a rainy affair, but then again it often is.

Summer is over; there are many ways to tell. Late season greens such as kale and spinach will remain abundant, melons are finally coming into their own, and garlic will soon be planted for next year.

The display of pulleys and levers was stripped bare. The ground was muddy. The fair was over.

Before this Friday, I had never been to the Martha’s Vineyard Agricultural Fair.