It is the beginning of September, and the country fairs are in full swing. People show the bounty from their summer gardens or quilts they've made over the past winter. I love this month and know it as a gentle one. Nothing is expected, no leaves to rake or large meal to prepare, and no holiday with gifts to wrap. Those joyous seasons come later.
September is a time when I feel still and uncomplicated. The days are warm and the nights and mornings are cool. The air is not as humid and the vegetation will become dormant soon. It is a time to allow myself the pleasure of tranquillity.
A recent hurricane blew through, rare but not uncommon for this month, and some of the old trees fell. I hate when old wood falls, but it is a reminder that we all have a finite amount of time on this earth. Trees give of themselves in both life and death, and I feel the worth of that fact as I split their logs to use in my wood stove over the winter.
Within the stillness I feel my spirituality renew itself, and again I am grateful for this month of softness.
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I love September, too, Sal. For me, it is the blessed relief from the heat of the summer and the anticipation of the wonderful things ahead that make this time of year so special. When we get the first hint of a nip in the air, see the migrating birds flying south against a deep blue sky, and smell the autumn leaves on still-growing grass, it doesn't get much better than that.
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