Embracing Autumn: Scarlet and Crimson Treasure

As we move further into Autumn there are more and more splashes of red to be seen in the trees and hedgerows. The rowan berries are the first, in August, but as September progresses they're joined by rosehips, haws, the berries of honeysuckle, and nightshade - and of course, unripe blackberries.

Bright scarlet rowan berries hang in distinctive clusters, in contrast to the crimson haws which are distributed much more evenly amongst the hawthorn foliage. 

In the hedgerows hereabouts there don't seem to be many rosehips - but there is a huge crop of haws. Some claim this signals a harsh winter ahead of us, but I tend to think it's more to do with favourable pollination conditions back in the spring when an exuberant froth of blossom covered the hawthorns.

I often think of the hawthorn as being the epitome of spring - its bright green leaves are among the first to break when the world begins to green anew, and the appearance of its flowers usually coincides pretty well with Beltane. Yet at this time of year when its leaves have darkened to glossy forest green and rich red haws jewel the hedgerow it is a striking feature in the landscape. In spring hawthorn seems full of lively joie de vivre, perfectly matched to the festivities of Beltane. As we approach the Autumn Equinox, its energy is of quiet, benevolent dignity - and generosity. There are enough haws for both us and the birds to enjoy - take advantage of this bounty and go foraging. 

Embracing Autumn: Hawthorn Brandy

Haws can be used to make many delicious edibles - jam, jelly, syrup, chutney, wine etc. Just Google 'hawthorn recipes' and you will find lots of inspiring ideas to make the most of your foraging. One of the simplest recipes of all is Hawthorn Brandy. If you've ever made Sloe Gin it's made very much along the same lines -  but everyone makes sloe gin, so why not try something a little different instead?

After picking your haws, pick them over and wash and dry them. Put them into a plastic bag and place them in the freezer overnight (this will soften them and begin to break down the skin so that their flavour will infuse the brandy effectively). Weigh the haws and put into a Kilner jar or similar tightly-lidded wide-mouthed container. Add sugar (half the weight of the haws), a pinch of cinnamon and some lemon zest. Pour over enough brandy to completely cover the ingredients, fasten the lid on tightly and shake well to dissolve the sugar. Store the jar somewhere dark, allowing the fruit to steep in the brandy for at least a couple of months (better yet until Yule). Shake the jar regularly. When enough time has passed, strain out the haws and lemon zest and bottle the flavoured brandy. Enjoy!  

 

Embracing Autumn: Read A New Book Month

I just discovered something wonderful about September - apparently it's officially Read A New Book Month, which gladdens my little bookworm heart no end! Not that I need much encouragement to dive into a new book in September, or at any other time of year for that matter. 

A couple of my recent favourite reads are 'A Spell In The Wild' by Alice Tarbuck, and 'Where The Crawdads Sing' by Delia Owens - both of which I wholeheartedly recommend. I also really enjoyed 'The Lilypad List' by Marian Van Eyck McCain which I picked up on a whim when I discovered it in a local telephone box which has been converted into a book swap library. These ingenious little libraries are popping up all over the place - hopefully there is one near you. If not, perhaps you could be the catalyst that gets such a local scheme going? Thanks to the Global Educational Trust, there are also free book shops in locations across the UK which quite literally give away free books in an attempt to keep them out of landfill and improve access to reading. And let's not forget our wonderful public libraries which still exist in many places as a means of access to books despite horrific cutbacks and closures imposed by Tory austerity. 

When buying books, please consider buying from a small independent bookshop whenever possible. Jeff Bezos really doesn't need any more of your hard earned cash - he'll only fritter it away on spaceships. You can find your nearest here, or shop online here. 

Embracing Autumn: Read A New Book

As well as curling up at home with your latest book, you can also make reading a more social activity by 

• Joining (or starting?) a book club
• Reading with your children
• Swapping books with friends
• Asking friends for book recommendations/sharing your recommendations with others

And if you find a new book that you absolutely love - please leave a comment on this post letting me know about it! I love getting book recommendations and hopefully other readers of Moonroot will find it helpful too. 

 

Embracing Autumn: A Turning Point

In the UK, the last Monday in August is a Bank Holiday - that is to say a public holiday. The August Bank Holiday weekend is one of the busiest of the year, the roads clogged by traffic as people try to make the most of the holiday by travelling to seaside resorts and other tourist destinations. Most schools start back in the first week of September, so there's very much a sense of grabbing the last chance for some carefree fun while the weather is still likely to be favourable and before we all return to the seriousness of work and school. In the national psyche it marks a turning point where Summer is definitely over and Autumn is poised to take over fully. 

It's a perfect example of the unrealistic idea of seasonal changes we have in our heads. None of the seasons start or finish abruptly on a given date of course, they ebb and flow, morphing slowly and subtly into each other. But it's interesting to notice how people's expectations colour their experience of the seasons - they seem almost affronted if warm and sunny weather doesn't appear on cue in June as they feel it should be, they're disappointed when it doesn't snow at Christmas, and they seem to expect leaves to start changing colour and falling as soon as September appears.

This weekend does mark a turning point, but it's an internal rather than an external one. Perhaps the negative feelings people have about Autumn are based more on the human-imposed realities of having to leave the beach and return to school or the office than any flaws inherent in the season itself.

Embracing Autumn: Seasonal Turning Points

In your journal, examine your feelings about Autumn and the other seasons. What are the stereotypes you see in your mind when you imagine Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer? How do they compare to reality? It may be helpful to do this exercise in tandem with tracking seasonal changes with your camera over the coming weeks and months - the results could be surprising!  

Embracing Autumn: Butterfly Days

Although 'Embracing Autumn' was intended to be a series of daily posts, once again things have slipped and I have missed a few days. This is because IB's elderly Mum - who is now living with us - had a nasty fall on Saturday afternoon which landed her in A&E. She's OK and on the mend but as you can probably imagine we've been a bit preoccupied over the last couple of days. I probably could have written something last night but to be honest I was too frazzled to sum up a coherent thought. I hope things will get back on track from now on, though.

Today I've been thinking about butterflies. In late August the buddleia bush on our patio is covered in butterflies. Many people dislike buddleia as it can be an invasive weed. The bush on our patio in fact sowed itself - I'm not sure quite where from as I'm not aware of any buddleia bushes in the immediate area, but somehow a seed must have blown in from somewhere. Now it's huge despite me cutting it back hard every winter, and at this of year time it makes the butterflies and bees so happy I can't possibly regret its arrival. I really rather love its unruly sprawl, the generosity of its abundant purple flowers drawing in clouds of butterflies and bees and the scent of honey as I brush past it. This morning as I left for work, the wall of the house by the buddleia was covered in butterflies warming their wings in the morning sun (I tucked this observation away as one of my beautiful things for today).

In this season of harvest and plenty, it seems appropriate to watch the butterflies feasting and apparently celebrating their bounty. 

Embracing Autumn: Butterfly Days

How many different kinds of butterfly can you spot? If you need help with identifying them, there are man handy online guides such as this and this. You can also help with butterfly conservation by simply reporting your butterfly sightings to projects like this one. 

 

     

Embracing Autumn: Spiderwebs

I love to see the marvellously constructed spiderwebs which appear in the garden at this time of year, jewelled with dewdrops. I suspect the spiderwebs are there all summer, but as the Summer dew is lighter and has mostly evaporated by the time we humans are up and about, we don't really catch sight of them. In Autumn though, the heavier dews and more frequent rain combined with shorter days make them far more visible, and what a delightful gift that is. With the morning sun setting the dewdrops sparkling like tiny crystal beads it's possible to fully appreciate the delicately spun intricate patterns and the amount of work that has gone into them. I know not everyone is fond of spiders, but surely even the most die-hard arachnophobe can find some appreciation of the shimmering beauty of Autumn webs?

Embracing Autumn: Web Meditation

Find an actual web or an image of one to focus your attention on. Find somewhere you can sit comfortably whilst gazing at your web. Take a few deep breaths in and out, and relax any tension you may be feeling in your body. Look carefully at your web. Notice how the 'spokes' of the web radiate outwards from the centre, anchoring the web in place. What are the anchor points in your life? What are the things, people or places which hold you securely, providing security and a firm foundation on which to build? Are the anchor points you have sufficient to support you, or do you need to strengthen them - or work on creating some more? 

Look at your web again. See how the connecting threads weave in a spiral out from the centre of the web, connecting each of the spokes. Think about how the path of your life spirals outwards as you grow in knowledge and understanding. Time and again as we travel through life we return to the same place, revisiting the same themes or issues or life lessons. Yet each time we return we bring a different perspective, a new understanding to add to the lessons we have already learned on our outward spiralling journey.

Look at the web and notice how every part of it is connected to and sensitive to every other part of it. Think of all the connections in your life and how they are all interconnected. Think of the great web of life connecting all living beings on the planet and understand that the health and wellbeing of each individual is inextricably linked to every other being. Imagine how your thoughts and actions have power to send tremors travelling through the web of life, and consider how to use this influence wisely to benefit the whole. Remember your power comes from your connection. 

Spiders maintain their webs diligently and meticulously, constantly reweaving and repairing any tears. Do you care for and maintain the connections that make up the fabric of your life? What would you need to do to improve the care you give yourself and your connections? Give yourself permission to properly care for yourself and your web. Remember that in doing so you strengthen the whole.

Come back to yourself and your body, sitting in its comfortable seat. Look once again at your web and take a few moments to think about the power and beauty of the web structure. Reflect in your journal about what you have seen and learned during this meditation.   

 

Embracing Autumn: Blackberry Time

 

August is the time of the grain harvest, but of course it's also the month that the blackberry harvest begins. I've been eagerly anticipating the first juicy black berries of the season, but I was still happily surprised when I realised the first few had appeared.

Most of the earlier season berries we enjoy in this country are cultivated - strawberries, gooseberries, currants, raspberries, loganberries, tayberries and blueberries; while most of the other 'wild' berries - rowan berries, elderberries, haws, rosehips and sloes - are best processed in some way before eating. Blackberries, however are wild, free, bountiful and perfectly delicious plucked straight from the vine. No wonder they've been eaten by humans for at least 8,000 years (according to the archaeological evidence)! It's not just humans who benefit from this fantastic resource - the berries are also eagerly consumed by birds, foxes, badgers, mice and other small mammals. The flowers provide nectar for bees and other pollinating insects, and the leaves are grazed by deer and are an important food source for caterpillars. Thorny bramble thickets also provide shelter, nesting sites and a safe haven from predators for birds, small mammals and even grass snakes.

Have you ever noticed that not all blackberries taste the same? It's not your imagination. There are actually more than 330 subspecies of blackberries in the UK alone - so I suggest doing a 'taste test' of the blackberries in your area and taking careful note of where the best are to be found! 

Herbalists use blackberry (the roots, leaves and berries) to treat a variety of conditions including diarrhoea, burns, dysentery, inflammation and sore throats. I find it interesting that a plant capable of inflicting such nasty scratches is used as a soothing remedy.

Such a well-known plant inevitably has a lot of folklore attached to it. On the Isle of Man it was said to be unlucky to eat the first ripe blackberries as they belonged to the faeries, yet in other parts of the country the first fruits contained healing powers (as I don't live on the Isle of Man I decided it would be fine for me to eat the first blackberries I found - and they were delicious!). The plant was also used to magically heal those suffering from a variety of ailments (including ruptures, pimples and boils) by passing the afflicted person under the archway formed by a bramble branch. In Christian lore it's said the berries are black because brambles were used to make Christ's crown of thorns. It was also said that Lucifer landed painfully in a blackberry  bush when he was thrown out of Heaven and in anger he spits (or in some tellings, urinates!) on the berries each Michaelmas Day (29th September) after which the berries are unpalatable and should not be picked. It seems more likely to me that it's actually the colder weather and frosts at the end of September that are to blame for overly soft, tasteless blackberries! Despite all these negative associations, blackberry bushes were thought to protect against evil spirits and were often planted near homes for this reason (I'm sure the berries were an added bonus!).

There are some wonderful folk names for the plant including bramble, bumblekites, black leg, bounty thorn, skaldberry, blackbutters, blackbides, scaldhead and gatterberry. 

Embracing Autumn: Go Blackberrying!

Take the family, take a basket, and go blackberrying. The bushes are easily found in hedgerows and on wasteground. Do watch out for the sharp thorns which will catch and scratch you, and the berries will stain your fingers - but the reward of a basket full of juicy fruit will be well worth it. Eat them fresh, or bake them into cakes, pies, crumbles, muffins. Blackberry ice cream, blackberry sorbet, blackberry fool. Make blackberry jam or jelly, blackberry syrup, blackberry wine, or steep them in gin or vodka with a little added sugar to produce blackberry liqueur

Embracing Autumn: Tracking the Seasonal Changes

As of today I have been living at Halfway Up A Hill for 21 years, the longest unbroken period of time I have lived anywhere. I vividly remember the first morning I awoke in our new house and looked out of our bedroom window across the lush green valley spread out below us. It was a gorgeous, golden, sunny morning. The sky was brilliant blue and full of joyously swooping swallows, and the valley was filled with early morning mist. I wondered then if I'd ever tire of the view. I haven't. It still fills me with delight and wonder that I live somewhere so beautiful, and I endlessly photograph it through the changing seasons in a vain attempt to adequately capture its loveliness.

My photographs never quite do the view justice, but what they do capture is how much the view changes through the passing months of the year. I've noticed the same phenomenon when I take photos of the garden. In winter, the images I've recorded in summer amaze me with the abundance of foliage and flowers - and in summer the photos taken in winter seem impossibly stark and uncluttered, the bare bones of the land visible in a way that is completely hidden in summer when they're swathed in layers of vegetation. Taking regular photographs of the same view is a great way to keep a visual record of seasonal changes.

Embracing Autumn: Keeping a Pictorial Track of Seasonal Changes

Take a photo of a particular view from the same place and at at the same time every week throughout the autumn period. It is quite amazing how much change can be seen within the space of only a week. When you are finished, assemble the photos in chronological order so that you can track the subtle changes in the landscape that add up into dramatic differences over a longer period.

If you like, you could take a photo every day. You could also continue the project over a longer period, such as over the course of a year - or longer.   

    

Embracing Autumn: Autumn Music

Illustration by Terry Fan https://bibliocolors.blogspot.com/2013/10/musica-de-tardor-musica-de-otono-fall.html

I don't know about you, but while I'm working or cooking - or if I'm alone in the house - I like to have music playing in the background. I enjoy creating playlists - sometimes random assortments of my favourite songs and sometimes themed. During a stressful period earlier in the summer, I created a playlist of sweet and soothing summer music to play when I was working rather than my usual randomly selected playlists. Each song in the playlist had to be soothing and/or uplifting and to 'sound summery'. It really helped to keep me feeling relaxed and happy, but I also found myself really appreciating the seasonality of it. 

However, just this week I have begun to think that my lovely summer playlist is becoming less seasonally appropriate. I'll play it for maybe another week, but during that time I'll be selecting another group of songs, Autumn songs. This will be my soundtrack for the next couple of months, until my thoughts begin to turn towards a Winter playlist...

What is it that makes music seasonally appropriate? I think it's a very personal thing. Some of the Autumn tracks I've already selected are songs that are specifically about Autumn - Billie Holliday singing 'Autumn in New York' or 'The Reach' by Dan Fogelberg for example. Others are songs that I associate with the Autumn, probably because it was at that time of year that I originally heard them a lot on the radio:  Shawn Colvin's 'Sunny Came Home' always reminds me of driving my car on a mellow, golden day in early Autumn. And some songs just sound Autumnal - I really don't know why, but to me, Gordon Lightfoot's voice is the very essence of how Autumn should sound. What sounds like Autumn to you?

Embracing Autumn: Create Your Autumn Soundtrack

Create your own playlist of Autumn music to accompany your journey through the season. Is there a particular artist or genre you like to listen to at this time of year?  A particular voice or instrument that sounds like Autumn to your ears? 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' by Green Day - or 'Autumn' from Vivaldi's Four Seasons?

If you need more inspiration, lists of Autumnal music (with some overlap) may be found here, here, here, here and here. 

Embracing Autumn: The Rowan

It's August, and Rowan berries are ripening to brilliant scarlet, gloriously bright against the blue-grey skies.

The Rowan is one of my favourite trees. I love the slender grace of her smooth grey trunk, her dainty sprays of leaves, the froth of her creamy blossom in spring and the sass of her bold, bright berries heralding the onset of Autumn. I love the way her beauty belies her tenacity and strength - Rowan is able to grow at high altitudes (hence one of her other names, 'Mountain Ash') and in poor soils and inaccessible places which are often inhospitable to other species.

The Rowan has long been considered a magical, protective tree and had the reputation of protecting travellers from getting lost and warding off evil. People planted Rowans by their houses, hung Rowan branches over their doors and tied crossed Rowan twigs together with red thread as charms. It's also considered a 'threshold tree' and as such was not only planted at boundaries, but also believed to watch over gateways between this world and the otherworld. Perhaps for this reason it was traditionally planted in Welsh graveyards.

Other names for Rowan include Quickbeam, Berry Ash, Traveller's Tree, Wicken Tree, Wiggy and Thor's Helper (because of a tale in the Prose Edda in which Thor saves himself from drowning in a raging river by grabbing hold of a Rowan). 

Rowans can grow up to 15m in height and live for up to 200 years. The leaves, bark,  flowers and fruit of the tree are useful for wildlife, providing food for moths, butterflies, bees, foxes, badgers, squirrels, dormice and birds. Humans can eat the berries too, they are best made into jellies, jams, wines, cordials or liqueurs. Heating or freezing them during processing helps break down the compounds within them which could otherwise potentially cause indigestion or kidney problems.

Embracing Autumn: Make a Rowan Charm for Yourself or Your Home

Try to find a Rowan tree in your area* and gather fallen twigs and/or berries to make a protective charm for your home, car or to carry with you. The simplest method is to use two crossed twigs and some yarn (red is the traditional colour to use, but you can choose colours that are meaningful to you) to make a 'God's Eye'/'Ojo de Dios'. You could thread rowan berries onto the yarn for added protection, or add a 'tail' of threaded berries to hang down from your charm. Instructions on how to make a God's Eye can be found here (or look on Youtube for a tutorial). 

Alternatively you could simply thread Rowan berries together onto a length of cotton (using a needle and thread) or a piece of wire. Hang them over your front door to invoke the protection of the 'threshold tree' for your home.

* Rowans are often planted in parks, so even if you live in a city you should be able to find one. If all else fails, rowan berries can easily be purchased from herbal suppliers online. To ensure you are buying the right kind, check the Latin name which should be Sorbus aucuparia.       

 

 

   

Embracing Autumn: Harvesting Beauty

One of the decisions that I made in lockdown was that I wanted to take control of my life. More specifically, I wanted to actively pursue and build a happy life for myself rather than waiting for happiness to randomly appear (or not). To achieve this goal I've made numerous changes and I'm working on adopting new happiness-growing habits. One of the simplest and yet most effective practices I've found is to actively notice the beauty around me. At different times during the day - but especially when I'm feeling sad, or angry or bored - I make myself take a slow, deep breath and look around for something beautiful. Sometimes I challenge myself to find 3, or 6 or 10 beautiful things. You know what? It's surprisingly easy once you start. The sky is almost always beautiful in some way - a striking colour or full of amazingly shaped clouds, or soft with rain. The sound of birdsong or children playing or friends laughing together is beautiful. I might spot a sleek cat making its graceful way along the top of a wall, or see a dog joyfully running on the beach. I notice flowers and the play of sunlight through leaves, the rainbows made by a sprinkler on a lawn, a bright pot of geraniums, the rising of the moon, the warmth of the sun on my skin. Once you get into the habit of noticing, beauty is everywhere.

Embracing Autumn: A Harvest of Beauty

In this season of harvest, make it your daily practice to harvest the beauty around you and store it in your heart to feed and nourish you through the hard times. Try it now - find three beautiful things in your surroundings. List them to yourself as a sacred prayer, hold them in your heart. Now find some more. Repeat. At the end of the day, just before you sleep, list all the beauties your day has held. Sweet dreams.

 

Embracing Autumn: Sensing the Shift

One thing that fascinates me at this time of year - the time of one season slowly transforming into another - is that very process of transformation. When is the first tiny intimation of Autumn felt? When does the upward zigzagging flight of butterflies metamorphose into the earthbound tumble of leaves? When does Summer cease and Autumn take over completely? How does the energy of Autumn compare to the energy of Summer? What are the subtle clues to this seasonal alchemy?

It's partly the changing palette of the landscape as the lively green of summer dulls and ripens to khaki, gold and brown punctuated by late summer flowers in purple, orange and gold and ripening seedpods and berries. The air is scented with fruit more than flowers, with dust and dew and leafmould. The nights have an edge of chill, the days grown noticeably shorter than at the peak of Summer in June. The soundscape of birdsong changes as the emphasis changes from attracting a mate to marking and defending a territory, or preparing for migration to warmer climes. Each little incremental change - changes so small and subtle that they often pass unnoticed by our conscious minds - tips the balance a little more until seemingly suddenly it's fully Autumn.

Embracing Autumn: Sensing the Shift

Take a few minutes each day to notice the subtle changes in the world around you as the energies of Autumn grow stronger. Sniff the air. Note the changes in the greenworld. Listen to the new songs of the birds. Feel the waning strength of the sun on your skin. Tune into the rhythms of the Earth beneath your feet. Feel how the pulse of Autumn differs from the pulse of Summer. Try to determine when the tipping point occurs, when the last of Summer finally evaporates and Autumn fully establishes itself. 

 

Embracing Autumn: Autumn? Already?

Note: I originally intended to begin this series of posts about Embracing Autumn at Lughnasadh, but due to IB's elderly mother unexpectedly moving in with us at the end of July, I have not had time until now to begin. Please accept my apologies for a late start and a correspondingly slightly shorter series of posts than I'd expected to produce! 

Yes, I know. Embracing Autumn - in August? What am I thinking? And yet - bear with me. There's method in my madness. 

Remember how we explored the Blessings and Beauties of Winter from November through to early February? I timed that series of posts to begin then because our Celtic ancestors saw Samhain as the onset of winter, and Imbolc as the beginning of spring. They saw Beltane as the start of summer, and in their calendar Lughnasadh/Lammas marked the beginning of autumn. This makes perfect sense when you realise that Autumn used to be called 'Harvest' by our ancestors. According to Wikipedia: "Before the 16th century, harvest was the term usually used to refer to the season, as it is common in other West Germanic languages to this day (cf. Dutch herfst, German Herbst and Scots hairst). However, as more people gradually moved from working the land to living in towns, the word harvest lost its reference to the time of year and came to refer only to the actual activity of reaping, and autumn, as well as fall, began to replace it as a reference to the season." Lughnasadh or Lammas is of course the first of the three harvest festivals, marking the start of the grain harvest (the next harvest festival is the Autumn Equinox/Mabon, and Samhain is the third). 

For an agricultural society, it makes sense to divide the seasons according to what is observable in the natural world. Spring begins when the days are noticeably longer after the Winter Solstice, the first snowdrops appear and the first lambs are born. Summer comes when the days warm, the trees are all in leaf and summer migrants such as swallows reappear. Autumn - or Harvest - starts as the land, ripened by the summer Sun produces Her harvest. And winter returns as the trees become bare-limbed, the cold begins to bite and life retreats from the land.

So even if to our modern minds, August is summer holiday time, let's also be aware of the changes in the world around us that let us know Autumn is coming in. Along the lanes around me the long, uncut seed-heads of grasses are beginning to dry and brown, mirroring the ripening of their cultivated descendants wheat, oats and barley in the fields. The first blackberries, bilberries and green hazelnuts are appearing in the hedgerows, along with the scarlet splashes of rosehips and clustered rowan berries. In the garden, the early summer flowers have mostly gone to seed, while the late-blooming buddleia, Japanese anemones and crocosmia herald the changing season. Already the days are noticeably shorter than when the sun was at its height back in late June. Autumn is not yet fully arrived, but it is on its way. This year, won't you join me in fully immersing ourselves in the experience, experiencing and enjoying all the unique pleasures of the season? 

Embracing Autumn: Looking Forward

You can use your regular journal for this, or you may like to begin a special 'Embracing Autumn' journal in which to record your observations and explorations of the season. To start with, make a list of all the things you're looking forward to experiencing this Autumn. This will help you feel positively about the change from Summer to Autumn and provide a delicious sense of anticipation regarding the coming months. Here are some ideas to get you started

• Which special occasions will be coming up for you between now and Samhain? Make a list of birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and festivals, trips etc
• What seasonal foods are you looking forward to enjoying this Autumn? Crisp, tangy apples straight from the tree? Sweet and juicy blackberries? Pumpkin pie? Roast squashes and sweet potatoes? Foraged mushrooms? Crunchy hazelnuts?
• What special things do you enjoy doing during the Autumn months? Admiring the changing foliage on a walk through the woods? Sharpening your pencils and lining up your textbooks in preparation for the academic year ahead? Kicking through - or jumping into! - piles of fallen leaves? Hunting for conkers or sweet chestnuts? Kite flying? Jam, jelly and chutney making? Digging out your favourite pair of boots and cosiest scarf ready for the cooler weather? Building a bonfire and roasting potatoes in the embers?

Write as long a list as you like of all the things you are anticipating with glee for the coming Autumn. It's amazing how much there is to look forward to!

October Skies

 

Blackberry Daydreams

 

It seems to be a good year for blackberries - or perhaps it's just because my workload has lessened dramatically due to the pandemic and I have the unaccustomed luxury of enough time to wander, harvesting the hedgerows.

The September air is cool, with still a touch of warmth when the sun breaks through. Abundant clusters of blackberries hang among the tangle of brambles. I push my way in, thorns snagging my clothes and hair. Delicately I pluck the tender berries and the pile in my basket grows rapidly. Despite my care, my fingers are soon stained with purple juice, and my arms and hands scratched. 

The blackberries look to me like tiny jewelled ornaments, each tiny drupelet like a shining bead of jet or onyx. They are a treasure, an abundant late-summer gift of delicious fruit that can be enjoyed in the moment or harvested and transformed into preserves to bring a taste of summer in the depths of winter. Across the valley the jays screech in the oaks as they harvest and stash their own winter treasure trove of acorns. The jays and I, preparing for the unknown times ahead, gratefully gather the plenty that is offered us. We know that nothing is certain.

As we take, we give too. We help the blackberries and oaks by dispersing their seeds. Jays (along with squirrels) are actually responsible for planting the vast majority of oak trees. They bury acorns to keep as a winter food source - and acorns need to be covered with soil to germinate. A single jay can collect up to 5,000 acorns so it's inevitable that some of their haul will remain buried and later sprout into new trees. Likewise, the seeds of consumed blackberries pass unharmed through the digestive tracts of birds, animals and humans and are distributed when they re-emerge at the end of the process! The blackberries, the jays, the oak trees, remind me that we are all part of the intricately woven and interconnected web of life.

My basket is almost full but still I comb the thicket for more treasure, peering up and down, side to side. It's amazing how a small change in the way I look at the brambles suddenly reveals new, previously hidden berries hanging in ripe clusters. What a good reminder of the importance of trying to see things from all sides and being flexible!

I pop berries in my mouth, enjoying the sweet, tangy juices - and I throw some to the eager chickens too. That's another important thing to remember - when you have plenty - share it! The blackberries give generously and it is good to follow their example. 

At last, I head back to the house. The sun, now low in the sky, slants golden light across the fields and I take a few moments to sit on the bench that overlooks the valley and watch the rooks circling their rookery in preparation for the oncoming night. Tawny owls call to each other. The air smells of the berry juice on my fingers, the spearmint next to the bench that I brushed past, and woodsmoke from a neighbour's bonfire. My hands are scratched and my hair is dishevelled but I have a basket full of ripe blackberries and the jays have their acorns. We are blessed, and we know it. 

Suddenly September

And so here we are in September. 

There is a chill in the morning air. Days are noticeably shorter. Apples hang plumply from the tree and rosehips glow in the hedge. The sycamore leaves are beginning to brown. Yet the sun is still warm and the swallows still dance in the sky. Summer is drawing to a close, but gently.

How did we get here so quickly? Time has been a strange companion these last months. Though life in lockdown was slow and peaceful, still the months seem to have slid past quickly and already we are three quarters of the way through 2020. It's been such a strange year, the fact that we're entering its last stages will no doubt please many. Yet I suspect the strangeness will not evaporate on 31st December. Strange is the new normal as our expectations and priorities and beliefs about our lives are upended and re-examined and we learn to navigate the new reality in which we find ourselves. It's disturbing and often hard and painful. Isn't that always true of change? And yet... at times I find myself relishing the challenge. I think we could build something new and wonderful from the wreckage. Throw out what no longer serves, question the status quo, refuse to go back to the system that has created so much injustice and inequality. 

On this first day of a new month, one which sees the beginning of the new academic year, let's pause to think about the opportunities to learn that are there for us all. What has been stripped away? What essentials remain? What do we need to let go of? What do we need to bring in? What do we want to create? Where do we want to be this time next year?

Let's seize the initiative. Let's create the lives we truly want, not the lives they've tried to tell us we want. I don't want to be part of a system that keeps most of the world in poverty while a handful of billionaires call the shots. I don't want things, I want connection and meaning. I don't want to keep running on the hamster wheel, I want to spend time with people I love doing things that make the world a better place. 

When they urge you to 'get back to normal' so that they can get the system up and running again, refuse. Withdraw your support for a system that is only there to benefit the few. Dream a better future - then create it. Let's work together, for the good of all.

Reflections from the Cusp

We seem to be teetering on the cusp of Summer-into-Autumn at the moment. It is September already (how did that happen?) but as yet the days are warm and sunny even if the mornings are shrouded in mist and have a nip to them. No frosts yet, thank goodness.

It has been an amazingly busy summer, with much fun and celebration (parties, outings, picnics, a wedding complete with fancy dress!), plenty of sunshine and lots of hard work, both at home and in setting up a new business (or possibly two). Life is good at the moment.

And for once I am looking forward to the onset of autumn proper. Perhaps it is because we have actually had a decent summer for the last two years. But I am eagerly anticipating snuggling into cosy jumpers, warm nights around the fire, kicking through fallen leaves, making my favourite soups, roasting chestnuts...

Summer, don't be in a hurry to leave. But Autumn, I am looking forward to greeting you once again, old friend.

Kitten Chaos

The two new kittens, Mandrake and Woodruff, are outside. Galloping madly in the autumn sunshine, tumbling through the woodpile, tearing through the long grass. Occasionally they barrel headlong into the huddle of foraging chickens and there is an uproar of ruffled feathers, outraged clucking and scattered hens. For a few seconds the kittens - who have learned the hard way that chickens can peck - are in subdued, deferent retreat.

Then the smells... and the sunshine... and the birds... and the blowing leaves!!! And they're off again, running, tumbling, play-fighting, and exuberantly exploring the wonderful wide world beyond the safety and comfort of the back door.

The warm kitchen is reassuringly only a cat-flap away.

Harvests - The Good, The Bad and The Wonderful

We are almost at the Autumn Equinox, that magical point at which day and night stand equally balanced before tipping into the dark half of the year. That is one reason Pagans mark this time of year with ritual. Another reason is that we are slap bang in the middle of the harvest season, which begins at Lammas or Lughnasadh and goes on until Samhain. Lammas is celebrated in high summer, at the beginning of August when the grain harvest usually begins. Samhain comes at the end of October, when farming communities traditionally brought their livestock down from the hills into more sheltered pastures and culled old or weak members of the herd. The culled animals would provide meat for a celebratory feast and this would also be salted down or cured to provide food through the coming winter months.

Autumn Equinox, or Mabon as some like to call it, is a time for harvesting the abundant fruit and nuts available as summer gives way to autumn. Apples, pears, late plums and damsons, squashes and pumpkins, blackberries, autumn-fruiting raspberries, quinces, hazelnuts, elderberries, haws, and sloes... The summer crops of potatoes and onions should be dug by now and safely stored somewhere cool, dark and dry. Then there are mushrooms to be foraged and the last of summer's bounty to be stored away in jams, jellies, pickles, cordials, wines, syrups and chutneys. And of course, seeds of flowers, vegetables and fruit can be saved for sowing next spring.

Unfortunately the fruit and vegetable harvest at Halfway Up a Hill is rather meager this year. The vegetable patch has been somewhat neglected as I no longer have as much time to devote to it, and much of the fruit harvest is disappointing due to the terrible weather we've had this summer negatively affecting pollination rates. There are no damsons at all and my usually reliable cooking apple has only three fruits, comparing miserably with the fine harvest we had last year. Even the elderberry crop is sparse. Defying all expectations though, the tomatoes have done pretty well and continue to produce, and there is an extremely heavy crop of haws in the hedgerows.

Our modern estrangement from the natural world to an extent insulates us from the extremes of food shortage that we could expect from such a cold, wet summer. Food  prices may increase, but there will still be plenty to choose from at the local supermarket, greengrocer or market stall. We are so lucky in the Western world, and we so often take that for granted.

But we are also lucky to have the wonderful human spirit of altruism, generosity and the instinct to share in times of plenty - in times of scarcity, too. Just this week I have been gifted with some homegrown runner beans, a big fragrant bunch of sweetpeas, a pretty oriental fan and a jar of redcurrant and blackberry jelly by different people. In the last year I have been given rhubarb, plants, vouchers, magazines, a vintage radio for restoration, cucumbers, fabric, kitchenware, a computer that needs fixing, yarn, a large amount of firewood and items of clothing by friends, family and neighbours; they have also gifted me freely with advice, expertise and various skills that I lack when I've needed help. I myself have passed on books, surplus eggs, incense, my old car, toiletries, magazines, perfume and homemade jam. I have borrowed a wall-paper steamer/stripper, a router, a tile-cutter, a mitre saw, and have lent out a bagful of DVDs, my carpet-shampooer, a dehumidifier, my pressure-washer and books. And I have done lots of liftsharing!

Since T left, money is a constant issue. I receive alimony, but it decreases each year and will end altogether in a couple of year's time. I am now working, but I don't seem to earn enough to manage without the alimony. And as we find ourselves in the middle of a recession with no end in sight - no matter what the politicians say - the cost of living increases almost daily. Money - or lack of it - is now a permanent worry at the back of my mind.

But in this time of balance between summer and winter, light and dark, abundance and scarcity, I breathe and choose to remember that it is true that the best things in life are free. I choose to remember that I am part of a community of friends, family and neighbours who look out for each other, share what they have and help when they can, just because that's what we humans do for each other. I choose to remember that co-operation is more important than competition. I choose to remember that abundance and money are not the same thing. And most of all I choose to give thanks for the harvest of my many blessings, which are priceless.

September and Storms

September and May are my favourite months. May, fresh and tender with new growth; September's maturely wistful, mellow air. The light in both months has a soft golden quality, the sun lower in the sky.

September is usually a last little burst of warmth before autumn sets in properly, the mornings chilly and  dewy, and the afternoons mild and golden. A 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'. This September however has been tempestuous and unsettled as the country is lashed by the tail-end of hurricanes from aross the Atlantic. Inbetween the storms the days have been as mild and sweet as usual, and the garden is full of abundant apples, damsons, autumn raspberries and blackberries. The hedges too are dripping with sloes, elder and hawthorn berries, rosehips and hazelnuts. The good weather in the early part of the year allowed excellent pollination rates and now we are reaping the results.

There is uneasiness in my heart though. Weather patterns seem to be changing, and although I know climate change and weather patterns are not the same thing, still there seems to be something going on. The last few years we have had bitingly cold winters, an unseasonably hot, dry spell in spring/early summer, followed by wet, windy summers and flood-prone autumns. Everywhere I hear people exclaiming about the unusual weather, not just here in the UK but all around the world. Droughts, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, prematurely melting ice. Something is going on. And it disturbs me.

Here on the calm, mild days the sun is interspersed with gentle rain and it seems like a normal September. But in exposed places, traumatised trees have had still-green leaves torn away by the fierce winds. In the garden there are few signs of dew-dropped spider webs in the morning. All their careful weavings have been torn and battered down by storms.

The swallows have already left, and no doubt the martens will follow shortly. I pray they will find safe passage to their winter homes. Soon the winter flocks of starlings will be in evidence again. Hopefully this winter won't be so harsh for them.

I hope my fears are unfounded. But I worry about stormy times ahead. In the meantime I harvest fruit from garden and hedgerows, bottling, jamming, pickling, chutneying, drying and brewing it into store cupboard goodies for the cold months. What else can we do but prepare as well as we can for the lean times, whilst hoping for the best?

Mabon Altar