Mid-Autumn Pastoral

We've had the most lovely stretch of weather. After a long, dusty, too-hot summer, we finally - a few weeks ago - had a series of quenching rains, rising occasionally to the level of torrent. Still being the growing season, the grass and trees revived vividly. The dust settled, and green came back into the world.

More recently, we've enjoyed a revival of blue skies and sunshine. It's cooler, of course - we had to buy propane to heat the house at night - but it's beautiful. The days are bright and blustery, the leaves are turning, or have turned, or have fallen and are racing along the ground with the gusts. But it's still T-shirt weather, for those with a hearty constitution, as I am raising my girls to have.

The seasons have indubitably changed. All the pears have fallen off the pear tree. We mowed the lawn for the last time last week. The garden has been fully abandoned. Nobody is even coming by with apples to press anymore. But it is still early to mid fall, my favorite time. It's still bright and crisp, not yet soggy and freezing. There is still light in the sky when I awake and when I get home in the afternoons. The long dark season of pure endurance has yet to commence.

I feel like throwing a bonfire and a feast. It feels like harvest moon festival time. It feels like Samhain. It feels like time to throw the last shindig of the year before we all dig in and get cozy for winter.