I feel compelled to pull out a jigsaw puzzle and make soup, it must be September.
The air is cool at night, but days are sunny and bright. Farmers’ markets overflow and my obsession with fresh produce is at its peak.
I live in the northern hemisphere, Canada’s capital to be exact: Ottawa, Ontario. Here we experience Mother Nature’s four seasons head on. She does not usually mince her presence in this neck of the woods; “moderate” is not in her vocabulary.
I like it like that.
Each distinct season offers distinct gifts.
The hot, hazy days of summer invite us to sit in the shade with a cool drink while later in the season, we reap a rich and bountiful harvest of local fare that overwhelms the senses in the best of ways.
Fall entices us into the woods with its colors, tantalizing us with the scent of pine needles and the sound of leaves crunching under our feet as we soak in the smell of firewood and flannel shirts.
Cold winter months bring crisp, blue skies and diamonds on the snow while spring shines on with its show of blossoms and many shades of growth.
But there’s more.
The cyclical nature of the seasons offers something less tangible or visible, but just as precious: a change in internal rhythms.
Who could deny the energy and buoyancy of spring or the fall instinct to focus on hearth, home, and routine? What about the lightness and slumber of summer or the more silent, inward draw of winter months?
These shifts in energy are gifts just as much as the cherry blossom that graces the tree or the bushel of freshly picked apples waiting to be turned into this winter’s spicy treat.
They’re a chance to tune in and press the reset button, and for that, I am grateful.
Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a 20-pound box of local tomatoes with my name on it, waiting to be processed for future enjoyment…