Here in Saskatchewan, farmers are busy in the fields bringing in the harvest. I’m not a farmer, but there’s still something so satisfying about seeing combines in the field.
In our own backyard, I’ve picked the last of the green beans, zucchini, and cucumbers. Tomatoes are still going strong, but I’m keeping an eye on the nighttime temperatures as the “F” word (frost) is being tossed around by gardeners to the north of us. I’m making batches of tomato soup and roasting some with herbs to store in the freezer. The root crops, beets and carrots, are fine even if we get a frost, but I’m gradually making a dent in what’s still in the ground by making and freezing borscht.
I have been mesmerized watching barn swallows swoop and sway in the sky, knowing the dance signals they’re preparing to migrate south. Leaves on trees have started to turn yellow; I watched one fall to the ground the other day. Spiderwebs are everywhere. Box elder bugs (commonly known as maple bugs) congregate on the sides of the house and garage. I signed up for meal delivery kits again, because having to decide what to make for dinner every single day is crazy making. This afternoon, I pulled on long sleeves before heading out and, because it seemed the next logical step, grabbed my first pumpkin spice latte of the season.
It’s back-to-school week. A big brand-new dual-use school (combined public and Catholic) at the end of our street opened its doors on Tuesday. Traffic on our street has increased significantly as a result. The silver lining is that, thanks to the school, we’re now on a bus route, so our street will get snow clearing this winter. (We saw a grader only once last year. Trust me, it wasn’t pretty around here.)
My September calendar is already filling up with appointments. I joined a new yoga studio, and regularly scheduled programming at the fitness center resumes next week. Then there’s all the regular stuff like appointments with the dental hygienist, hair stylist, and pedicurist, which all fall at the beginning of this month.
Everywhere I look, I see change. Technically, it’s still summer, but all signs point toward autumn. Fall comes quietly, offering respite from summer’s busyness, inviting us to be grateful for the harvest, and offering daily opportunities to pay attention to the changes. There’s nothing stagnant about autumn.
In this season of abundance and change, our challenge is to live in the present tense. This is true in light of summer shifting into fall, but also in the shadow of all change. Regardless of whether we perceive a given shift as positive or negative, remaining present in the midst of it is the surest way I know to weather it and remain healthy.
I’m looking in the mirror as I write this.
The other day, my husband and I were discussing something that was causing me angst. Through my tears, I identified five things that, if I only knew how they would turn out, would ease my anxiety. I had to smile as I counted them off on my fingers, because I realized that every one of them was something that no one could predict. And yet, the desire within me to be in control and know the outcome was so strong that it was causing sleepless nights and physical symptoms in my body. I had fallen into the folly of obsessing over that which is unknowable—and I sure as heck wasn’t resting in my faith which, truth be told, for me is far easier said (or written about) than done.
Paying attention to the changing season reminds me to live in the present tense. An almost-daily watercolour practice also helps. As does stirring a pot of tomato soup, watching barn swallows, or being present on my yoga mat. And faith? As always, I continue practicing.