....the giving season

Yogis,
It is subtle but unmistakable. Another full earth transformation has been set in motion. Impermanence. The dense moist tree cover which for months lay like a blanket overhead protecting us from the harsh side of summer is thinning. Turning a corner, you catch a glimpse of leaves tinged with yellow. Grasses all going to seed. The downhill march of fall is underway.

Many plants in my garden are now dotted with dried brown leaves. They too have started the slow process of withdrawal. Decline. Yet at the same time another opposing energy is at play. One of plenty, as it is now harvest season.

On my return from the beach, I visited with my garden to see how everyone was doing. When I came to cucumber she was heavy with fruit. ‘Here,’ she said as I removed four and counted the other eight growing. Pickles will soon be on the menu.

  

Arriving at fig, she too was ready to share. A small bush that I received as a clipping from a friend finally took off this year, quadrupling in size with a glorious display of figs. ‘Climb in’ she says as I duck beneath her branches to find the ones turning red and come out with six figs and sticky fingers. I’ve received more every day. She has become a matriarch standing proud at the edge of my front yard.

Each year at this time I hunt for paw paw fruit without much success. Before leaving for the beach I had spotted my very first one though, high in a tree while hiking.  I go back with a friend on Friday to see how it was doing. We look up as we walk. ‘Look below me’ she says with a smile. An hour later we are driving home with five paw paws in a bag! They sit on my counter to soften. She gives, and gives and gives……

Basil gathered and blended into pesto. Rosemary and sage chopped into salt for seasoning that will nourish me until next summer. Plantain cut and soaking in oil for salves to soothe dry winter skin. The zinnias which continue blooming in every color, but on legs that are getting shaky, I give as gifts. Plump pumpkins make their first appearance in farm stands.

The gifts of late summer.

It’s as if nature is saying ‘I am going to be leaving you soon, so I am working hard on your behalf now. Please, please take all that I offer before I must lay down to rest’. Her final surge of energy used to give and give and give.  

Before we know it the earth will be quiet once again. The landscape barren. But for now, I welcome her offerings with open arms and a deep humble gratitude.

Thank you,
SARAH