Well, we did it. We made it through spring and now on this the last day of August, for all intents and purposes, we’re wrapping up a topsy-turvy summer.
It’s dark when I rise now, and there’s an unmistakable chill in the air. Even in the afternoon when it’s warm (or hot—there’s still a good measure of summer-like days on the horizon) you can feel it.
The tree across the street in my neighbour’s yard drops the odd leaf. Elsewhere, shades of green take on different hues as plant life prepares to change.
The marathon days of canning are over. Now I pick blushing tomatoes and put them in a box in my laundry room until there’s enough to make a batch of soup. I save seeds, pull out plants, and survey the changing garden landscape. She remains generous with her gifts as she prepares for the restful fallow season.
We’ve moved from an unimaginable spring through an uncertain summer. I’m ready for autumn like never before. It’s always been a season of comfort. We need comfort like never before.
Pass the blankets and reading socks, pull out the crockpots and candles. We’ll have to be creative in our pursuit of creature comfort this season, but we’ve already proven our resilience and ability to adapt this year.
In the interest of caring for my mental health, I limit my exposure to some things and open arms wide toward others. These shifting sands present challenges—some hard to weather, others good and necessary.
We’re all broken in unspoken ways, cracked and chipped and so beautiful in our imperfection. I remind myself over and over: don’t let the world make you hard. What is today, wasn’t yesterday, and if we don’t learn to bend we will shatter.
And so farewell August. You were one like none other.