We are in the last week of August and although the official end of summer is still a few weeks away, these days before school reopens seems like the last call of the season. Sigh. One feels the tug of reality and the obligation to get back to serious, grown-up life. The most carefree months of the year are over.
The days are getting shorter and the early morning air carries with it a sharp, cool edge. Nature is in the process of a wardrobe change for her next gig. She gives herself time to move from one to another. Time to decompress and time to get ready. I take my cue from her and go into transition mode. I’m using this week to get myself centered. Its been a good summer. Not because the garden looked spectacular but because I paid attention and learned from it. I let go of trying to be in control and allowed matters to evolve as they may. I spent more time being present in the garden and enjoying its beauteous bounty than I did tending to the myriad chores. With or without my efforts, the garden went about growing, blooming, fruiting. So things were far from impeccable but who noticed? There was enough to delight the senses and distract any critical mind.
This year, I am satisfied with my own engagement with the season. I managed to strike a good balance between working in the garden and playing in it. And I collected abundant good memories along the way. So, now that autumn is right around the corner, I’m getting set to transit. While the weeding is addressed and plans are being drawn up in preparation for fall tasks, I’m still getting immense pleasure in the way the white hydrangeas glow at dusk. As I bite into a freshly picked fig and my fingers get sticky from its sweet syrup, I block off days in October for bulb planting. My bare feet caress the mosses carpeting the ground shaded by the tree house even as I make a list of plants to introduce in the meadow before the cold sets in.
The fruit will be harvested, the last of the vegetables consumed, newly made jams and sauces canned. But for now, I’ll recall the highlights of my summer and relive the moments of wonder and laughter. Thats plenty. More than one dares to ask for oneself. And then, I’ll be ready to move into fall. Will you?
Here are some glimpses of my summer – away from the garden:
(c)2014 Shobha Vanchiswar