Since beginning to work with and on the land all those years ago I’ve come to look at August as The Month From Hell.
Everything happens at once and the weeds are out of control and it’s so freakin’ hot and I’m just so very tired and there’s so damned much to do and it truly seems as though that light at the end of the tunnel is, indeed, a freight train.
But if August is The Month From Hell, then what does that make September? Because even though the temperatures drop a bit, the raspberries are still popping, the orchard fruit is ripening up and ready for harvest, the corn needs to come in from the field before the squirrels get to it, all the abundance you’ve worked so hard for has to be preserved in one way or another, and the mind begins to race with an unknown countdown to the potential first freeze combatting with the never ending summer close up tasks.
So September is kind of like being in limbo while running around like a psycho, but you do begin to realize that instead of a freight train, that light at the end of the tunnel might actually be a cozy fireplace. And so it’s that future fireplace that comforts my tired bones while harvesting, preserving, pressing cider, culling poultry, and prepping for the snow to fly.
And September is gorgeous with her reds and blues and golden hues as the dogs enjoy spilled goat milk, the compost shows it’s very much alive, the chickens go broody and become the best mamas, and we marvel at the grandness of all of nature at her finest.
And September is also so very gentle as she reminds us to slow down and observe as the leaves begin to change and the land begins its temporary descent back into itself. September is the quiet (though firm) reminder of the cycle of all things as it carries Summer’s last breath into the winds and ushers in Autumn’s embrace.
I hope that, however you’re spending this liminal space between all that was and all that’s coming, you’re finding some balance within and around you so you can rest well and prepare to do it all again next year.
xoxo,
M
