Fallen Sunday

A standstill. I find myself turning to soft, velvety clothes, waking up the fireplace and wood-burning ovens, lighting candles at noon. Rainfalls follow one another; in between, there are glimpses of sun and soft, noticeably cooler breezes of what is about to become fall air. No one remembered to tell the lavenders, dahlias, and sunflowers that the weather is changing. They are blooming like it’s mid-July, growing strong and letting out a flower or ten or twenty per day. It’s our first year, so there’s so much learning ahead for us all.

Collector’s Note

Beginning of September. I am collecting. Foraging, growing and harvesting. Stocking, drying and capturing summer. I am not alone. The squirrel is just as busy, as is palokärki, our black woodbecker. We are all quite loud in our chores. The yard is filled with whizzeling, singing, clicking, tweeting and occasional barking. Weather stays warm and humid. Our neighbor is worried that this winter will hit us with a month of -30 degrees wheather to compensate the warm waves. Bring it on, we are ready.