September
This light. This light. This glorious light.
I want to bottle you up and tuck you on my shelf for safe keeping.
To carry you with me always.
I want to slather you on toast and take you in.
You’re butter and cream and corn and crème anglaise.
You’re comforting soups and homemade bread. Fruit filled tarts and long lit nights.
You’re lush forest and mushrooms popping. Waters teeming with fish on their way home.
Let me swallow you whole so I may shine as you do.
Is this my favorite? It could be, but I’m known to say that as each shifts from one to the next.
Fall is in the air. In the crisp mornings and chilly evenings that end in a cup of tea (sometimes spiked with bourbon). Where you still wake up to blue skies and sunshine or sometimes a gentle gray mist that melts away by noon. Sweaters come out of the closet but the breezy linen dresses aren’t quite tucked away. It’s the miraculous intersection of corn and chanterelles. Camping season and mushroom season. Plums and tomatoes. Peaches and potatoes. When it’s cool enough to start thinking about baking again and boxes of plums are practically given away. When squash is a novelty and feels like a long awaited friend not an unwanted houseguest that just won’t leave (that comes around January, for me).
Living in a place with such distinct seasons I can’t help but find joy in each. Particularly because as one just starts to emerge I’m quite ready to say good riddance to the one on the way out the door. Perhaps that's why I’m so drawn to this season that feels distinct from summer; it has the energetic influence of fall. People are finding their way back home. Routine returns with school schedules and the end of summer vacations. I’m still planning adventures but I know the trails will be quiet and the forest will soon be popping with mushrooms.
The quietness of this space speaks to the fullness of this summer season. We lapped up summer and made memories of cold plunges, sand in our toes, fingers stained with juicy berries, smoking our day's catch on the fire, and cooling off in dark movie theaters with buttery fingers. But now, like the trees I find myself getting ready to release what I no longer need to take with me on my journey. I’m ready to tuck in (on the days when I’m not out in the woods looking for mushrooms) and find some sort of a routine that allows me to rest, work, and play.
The crossing of one season to the next is a threshold, which for me is an opportunity to pause, reflect, and take note. I imagine myself standing at some sort of doorway or entrance. At this moment it seems fitting to stand under an archway of branches with leaves just starting to turn into their brilliant autumn colors of reds, oranges, and yellows but your doorway may look different. Before I walk through and cross over the threshold I pause to reflect on what I’m leaving behind; in this space gratitude and grief share residence. The memories made and the things I thought I’d do that just didn’t happen (I’m definitely grieving the end of camping season without having gone camping this summer). Taking a note from Marie Kondo I say thank you for those days and appreciate them for what they added to my life, even the painful bits, those are the ones that really stretch you, if you allow them to. And I reflect on what needs to be left behind as I only want to carry with me that which I’ll need for the next season (I’ll speak more to the energy of Fall in the next newsletter). All of this happens while I make sure that I’ve had my fill of this year’s tomatoes, corn, plums, peaches, etc. while I start making my way towards apples, squash, mushrooms, and long simmered braises.
To Read:
We Have Not Come Here to Take Prisoners
We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,Come out and play.”
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom andLight!
-Hafiz
I’ve come to adore Padraig O Tuama so very much. He offers a perspective that adds a bit of lightness in my body, perhaps it is also his infectious grin. In one of his latest newsletters he pairs deliciousness and disagreement together for more than just the catchy alliteration. He delights in disagreements (healthy ones) and speaks to art in a way that honors that what we create is not for all AND takes on a life of its own after we bring our art to life.
“art does not aim for objectivity. Rather, art’s aim is the space between me and it.”
Read the rest of the newsletter.
To journal:
What words or phrase stuck out to you as you read the poem by Hafiz? Read through again and notice any sensations that arise in your body as you read. Take note of anything that stirs you.
What does freedom and joy look like to you? Are there memories from this summer season where you felt like you experienced freedom and joy? Spend some time writing these memories down.
Imagine yourself with wings. What do they look like? How big are they? Are they bird? Fairy? Are they full grown or just starting to grow? Can you fly yet? Describe your wings in your journal.
Is there anything in your life that feels like it’s threatening the strength of your wings? Write some of these down.
To wander:
Take a walk through a park, or go for a hike - find yourself somewhere outside. Watch the beings that are with you on your walk that have wings.
To make:
Overwhelmed by life in general, for the first time ever I have made a meal plan and I am actually sticking to it. In the past I’ve let dinner be inspired by what I was craving or what was available in our fridge and pantry. In this season, when 5:00 hits, deciding what’s for dinner feels like a huge task. With a meal plan I don’t have to make that decision, I just start cooking. The bonus of this loosely scripted plan is that I feel like suddenly I have more recipes to share with you all. Two today in fact!
The first comes from the Ottolenghi Test Kitchen book called, Shelf Love.
It’s a recipe for Roasted potatoes with aioli and buttered pine nuts
The only changes I made were chives in place of the parsley and I doubled the aioli and used half as a base for a caesar dressing that I’ll use for our salads and serve with roasted vegetables.
The other recipe that was a winner I baked up on a whim. With fall in the air my daughter and I are leaning into the pumpkin spice craze and this cake hit all of those favorite fall scents.
For the crumb I added a 1/2 cup of oats and increased the butter by two tablespoons. I also skipped the maple syrup and added a touch more brown sugar and I didn’t think it needed the icing.
Many blessings to you all in this time of seasonal transition.
Buttered pine nuts will go with anything, I swear!
Hi Ashley,
what a wonderful post as usual, I live in Australia so just hitting spring here. I also
love poetry and how good is Padraig O Tuama, so cool and wise and funny!