Writings from my little corner of modern domesticity.

Harvesting Fall

This time of year always awakens a different sense of being for me. It’s about winding down from the heat of summer and gathering. Gathering the last bits of the garden’s summer bounty, the shorts and sandals to be put away for next year, gathering friends and family- gathering yourself up and reflecting. It’s about the peace and beauty inherent in the slow shift from summer to fall, the changes in the leaves and the light, the reappearance of frost on the morning grass, the smell of summer fading as the smell of the fall rises in its place; I just can’t imagine living without it.

It is one of my favorite times of year for nature. As the darkness rises and our days grow shorter, we are called to draw inwards and focus on those things near and dear- hearth and home and the beloved that give them warmth. I’m a sucker for the transitional times- the cusps between seasons, where one day, you catch just the lightest hint of fall in the scent of summer air, or the tickle of spring on a winter’s breath. I rejoice each time I can sense the shift occurring.

It’s an excitement I’ve had for years, partly brought on by my birthday being at the end of October, meaning the change to fall meant soon my birthday and all the fun that came with it would soon be upon me! But the rest I think has to do with growing up outdoors. I don’t mean we were homeless; rather, I spent a great deal of my growing up days outside with the sun and the wind and the myriad green and growing and running things around me. I often make the joke that my first baby sitter was a maple tree and my first playhouse a yew bush, and it’s true. When your playroom is the outdoors, each shift in season means a whole new set of toys. But this led it to also be my schoolroom, teaching me slowly, in the patience only found in the passage of time itself and the gentle cycling of the Earth, all about the little signs that were each an integral part of the bigger picture in each shift, which were parts in an even bigger picture of the cycle itself. They are the same every time, and yet, each year they are brand new- it’s like hearing a song you heard frequently and loved at a high point in your life suddenly on the radio.

A beautiful transition, this time. I hope this one lasts; lingers a little. But if it doesn’t, that’s alright- I’m excited enough for the leaves to turn!


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