A Gentle Shift

Being present with the season

Hello, Beautiful Souls, as we journey through mid-summer, let us pause and be one with the earth…

There has been a shift in the air.

Like a deep exhale the cool breeze breathed softly across the land. Silently it swept up the last lingering heat that hid in pockets of heavy air, it touched the cracked soil and the wilting plants and whispered a message of hope. The rain will come.

I am walking quietly through the churchyard, the ancient, crumbling stones surround me whilst tiny summer flowers nestle between them; they trail up the stones, mingling with ivy that covers any long-ago description, any footsteps from the past.

The ancient church stands as it has for centuries, solid, grounded and surrounded by peace. As I pause to look up at the familiar tower, I notice a movement weaving between the trees, almost hidden by the gently swaying grass. A Muntjac deer and one I have encountered before in this small patch of sacred earth. As I pause a moment longer, he disappears into the trees as silently as he came. He leaves behind a quietness like no other, a lingering presence of hush and solitude.

I reach the church gate and slip through to my own patch of earth. It is here I grow my own food alongside nature, alongside the soft seasonal cycles that ever turn and change. Sitting down on the old bench I look across the soil, the plants and feel their message. The Summer Solstice a week ago brought intense heat, and many of the flowers have turned to seed. I notice how the wild foxglove next to me has drooped, the last remaining pink flowers surrendering to what must be. The Cow parsley has also turned to seed, it’s fresh white flowers over for another year, another cycle of our earth.

Yes, there has been a shift. The surge of growth, of abundance has been reached and the flowers are gently turning inward.

I slowly get up and walk towards the old apple tree, it’s twisted ancient trunk speaks of simpler times, of living with the seasons, of hoping for a good harvest. As I tread quietly to rest my hand on its trunk I brush past tall grass that softly sends its seeds into the waiting breeze.

Taking a deep exhale I pause with the plot of earth, with the old apple tree and I notice how the apples have already formed, they are waiting for the cool rain to come so they can grow and swell. I notice how quiet the earth is, like a gentle lull, a softness when the breath slows. I realise as I continue my way back to the church gate that the birds’ exuberant songs are over. I have glimpsed the robin, foraging on the ground, almost out of sight as if not wishing to be seen. I know his feathers are falling with his moult, they are carried away with the seeds, like confetti in the wind, a last tribute to the Spring that was.

Closing the gate softly behind me I turn to walk back across the churchyard and as I pause one final time I feel the gentle patter of rain falling upon the earth.

Thank you for taking this gentle rest with me. I am humbled you have joined me.

If you would like to travel alongside for longer you are warmly invited to subscribe to receive my weekly free Nature’s Seasonal Letters. I would be honoured to walk this path with you.

Sending seasonal warmth to you all

Clare