Hello Beautiful Souls, it is wonderful to meet once again. Come; let us softly tread beneath the trees and listen to the arrival of Autumn’s footsteps.
It is dawn. I can hear the Robin singing. Beautiful notes reaching inside my slightly ajar kitchen window.
I gently open the door and pull on my fleece on as I step outside into my courtyard garden and look up into the distant Silver Birch. As if aware he has an audience, the Robin shyly falls silent, and I startle as a Blackbird screeches out his early morning alarm call just a few feet from where I am standing.
I am aware as I take a seat on my faithful wooden bench that all my senses are listening.
Listening to Summer’s lingering goodbye.
Like an old friend who knows they must leave but holds on; grasping to the lingering warmth, light and laughter, holding on to what is fading, clinging to what must be released.
I take a sip of warming tea and feel the stillness in the air. A pause. Time seems to stand still, allowing for the cloak of Autumn to land softly at my feet and for Summer’s presence to fade away behind me, on the winding path of all that was.
As I reflect on the week past, I think about holding on and letting go. Allowing for the river to flow once again after the heavy lull of Summer as the wind arrives with a message of what is to come. Holding onto the midday warmth as the first leaves flutter to the ground, I feel it all so deeply. The memories of long summer days carried away by the chilly breeze and how Autumns’ strength is gaining; strength which holds an array of emotions. Beauty; a new seasonal beginning, but also grief of another year waning and the inevitable call to prepare for Winter months.
I slowly get up and making my way through the wooden, garden gate, I walk softly towards the churchyard path that leads to my allotment patch and my rescue hens who are waiting to embrace the light; to live fully in the present moment. As I walk, all seems so familiar and yet so much has changed. The trees seem to bow down, heavy with remaining seeds. They seem tired and the old Oak’s stillness calls for rest. I smile gently at the ancient and twisted branches whilst feeling the leaves surrender to Autumn’s guidance, a deep acceptance, rooted before the dawn of time. Despite the old tree’s weariness, I feel great comfort from being near, it’s deep knowing, and insight of seasonal change gives me a feeling of peacefulness like a floating leaf surrendering to the rhythm of a flowing stream.
As the path winds round, I pause to look at the view of a nearby hill. The sun’s rays tiptoe across the faded land and the last of the hovering mist begins to dissolve. Sheep are dotted across the landscape and as I quieten my thoughts and feel the ground beneath, I feel one with nature’s cycle of change.
As I gaze towards the cloud-free sky, I am aware of how we as humans are all part of the ebb and flow of change. September for me has meant a new home, a tiny, ancient place where I can live alongside nature and listen to its wisdom and energy. An old place, the stonework rooted deep into the earth, a home that has seen over a thousand seasons come and go, whilst holding gentle and peaceful wisdom within it’s walls. A sanctuary where in the past multi- generations would have gathered around the fire to celebrate the Autumn Equinox and to raise a glass of thanks to the harvest nature provided.
As I reach my allotment gate, I look towards the ancient orchard, with its apple, pear and plum trees. As the sun warms by back, I smell the ripeness of fruit and hear the chirping of a young Robin, waiting for his morning seed.
During the evenings, the local smell of woodsmoke is evident, but I have yet to light my first log fire. Avoiding the plastic-coated logs in the local store, I have instead gathered kindling and logs from a tree that came down in last winters storm making sure I left plenty of logs for small, wild ones to use as shelter in the upcoming Winter.
But the time for fire is not yet.
For I can still feel a pause, a coming together of Autumn’s colour and Summer’s light.
I will honour the pause before my own fire is lit. But when the day becomes equal to night; when the Autumn Equinox arrives, then it will be time. Time to welcome Autumn fully whilst Summer disappears into the mists of dreams.
As I step through the creaky gate, I can see Summer in the distance, his back to me far away, but still radiating warmth, ensuring the last of nature’s bounty can be ripened, collected and stored. Ensuring we can still remove our scarves and coats whilst eating lunch out of doors under an ever- changing sky.
As I gaze upon the last of my vegetables and flowers planted, I see how nature has already retreated. How the harvest, being so hot this year is almost at an end and how what remains of the plants begin to fall back into soil, to become part of the cycles of the earth once more.
I am ready.
I am ready to gently pick up Autumns cloak and feel the soft folds wrap around my shoulders. To embrace the wind’s change in direction, the leaves that softly fall and to hear the Oak tree sigh as it releases the last of its acorns quietly to the ground.
I am ready to light my fire.
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’re warmly invited to subscribe to receive my weekly Nature’s Seasonal Letters. I would be honoured to walk this path with you.
With seasonal warmth
Clare
This is beautiful Clare. I fell in love with Autumn all over again.
"I am ready to gently pick up Autumns cloak and feel the soft folds wrap around my shoulders" - such gorgeous words. I love it. 🍂🍁🍎
Such a peaceful and calming read, Clare. Just what I needed today. Thanks and Equinox blessings to you 🩷