Born and raised (over half of my life) in Los Angeles, a city with a perpetual summer, I was a total stranger to the seasons. Constant activity, bright lights, an atmosphere layered with complex sounds, and more options for dining, entertainment, cultural opportunities, and coastal recreation were available all the time. When I look back, I can see how I struggled to metabolize it all. Consequently, understanding the lessons, magic, and uniqueness of each season was out of reach. All that changed when I moved to the Pacific Northwest. Over two decades of living in the countryside of the PNW, I have come to know the seasons intimately and I am deeply inspired by each.

The past few years, I’ve noticed that at the end of summer, I start to feel a little anxious knowing that extra daylight, sun-kissed skin, and summer projects and travel will soon come to a close. There’s a little ache and resistance that precedes the onset of one of my favorite seasons, Autumn. As the leaves change colors, accentuating the landscape with gorgeous hues of saffron, amber, cognac, and crimson, the small knot in my belly begins to unravel and my resistance softens. I find myself easing into the spirit of Autumn.

Autumn casts its spell in the most romantic way by calling us to slow down, enjoy our favorite hot beverage and pumpkin-spice everything, read books we’ve been collecting through the year, wear layered outfits and bulky sweaters, and gather with friends and family in festive ways. She calls people to feel, and opens our senses. Yes, Autumn is a fabled enchantress.

An activity that I especially enjoy is witnessing trees release their leaves and revealing the skeletal structure of their trunk and complex branch systems. This year, I allowed myself to take the journey of the leaf. I attentively watched leaves drop and followed them to the resting place. I noticed whether they flew down from the top, center, or bottom of the tree. I especially like watching maple tree seeds fly because they look like helicopter propellers spinning on their descent. Watching leaves fall felt like meditation, and I definitely relaxed by watching them.

By the end of Autumn, deciduous trees are dormant (apparently). I don’t know the science behind this state, but my guess is that they are not dormant. Year after year, I’ve seen these spiritual and biological beings transform their barren bodies into the most creative and lush expression in the Spring. There must be a lot of energy exchange and wizardry happening in the trunks, branches and roots of trees. When I think about this transformation, it blows my mind. Autumn graciously invites us to lean into this season of incredible change.

Another thing I love about Autumn on our homefront is harvesting apples and pears from our fruit trees. Every year, I am reminded to share the abundance we are given with wildlife, particularly resident deer, rabbits, and birds. Before picking the fruit, I give thanks to Mother Nature and the trees for their generous provisions. After returning home with our harvest, I prepare a pot full of cubed fruit for a night in the slow cooker. I’ve experimented with various concoctions, but this year I was inspired to simmer pears, cinnamon sticks, and blueberries. It turned out pretty dang good! Homemade pear compote is a family favorite and we enjoy it for several months until the next Autumn’s harvest.

As the daylight sky becomes dark earlier and the sun rises later with each passing day in Autumn, I’m drawn to lighting candles in the early morning and evening throughout this season. The ambience that candles create feels so primal and comforting. It feels like a ritual of significance. On a visceral level, it reminds me of a time long ago, beyond my own lifetime. It’s as if candles have presence or maybe they make me aware of a timeless presence that is nostalgic and undeniable.

I could go on and on about the beauty and magic of Autumn, but that will be for a blog post next Autumn. I will say that the longer I live in the bosom of the natural world, the more my soul craves it and my body remembers what I once knew but have forgotten. Nature’s cycles, rhythms, mysteries, wisdom, and energy are embedded in our DNA. All we have to do is access it, and its wisdom will be shared with us. It’s an ongoing, sacred discovery and journey.

Next summer, when I feel it coming to a close, I will pause and breathe into my anxiety and resistance. I will allow it to dissolve and coalesce with the essence of Autumn. Before I know it, I will be sitting with an inspiring book and candle light in my bulky sweater as I sip on my favorite hot beverage, enjoying homemade fruit compote on a pumpkin-spice dessert thinking about the upcoming holiday festivities.

Many blessings and moments of inspiration to you.

Sacreah