A Season Turns | Autumn
The season has turned. The mornings raise the ends of my hair in a chill and require me to pull on a pair of woolen socks while still buried beneath the warmth of my bed.
Autumn has arrived, says September.
We can see it in the trees, the wilting blooms, the end of summer harvests. The ripening of pears and apples. The lure of warmer foods, warmer colors, warmer hearths.
We forage for the last of the fruiting branches. We pluck plush clusters of pears from their limbs. We light the beeswax tapers, and invite the lingering light of the sun in.
Absorbing her warmth into our bodies and into our homes while we still can.
We are enveloped in an air of possibility - on the cusp of something new, while embracing a seasons end. How might we simplify? How might we return to ourselves after the hot demands of summertime? What must we lay down in order to empty our palms in time enough to stretch them out to the embrace of Autumn.
Autumn - the corridor to cooler temperatures, the season of the soul, the collective deep sigh from those of us who seek nourishing solitude. There’s an even greater significance to the return of ritual, I think, when we are asked to bring the medicine of the Earth into our homes. Her season of exhalation, a soft wind guiding us back to our inner-worlds.
And so we let ourselves soften into the sweet slowness of her season.
~
All photos by our beloved Kris LeBoeuf taken at the Portland cottage of Sarah Van Raden. Arranged and written by Roe Taylor.
Leave a comment