When summer turns to fall…
The days are still beautifully warm, but there is just the hint of a nip in the air in the morning. A sharpness that makes you want to get things done. The hum of a tractor in the distance. Thomas on his way to harvest and forage the gifts of nature to get us through winter. There will be baking, bottling, and pickling, but now I sit, just for moment, on one of the new benches in the chapel.
I like this silent structure. The calming effect of the cool stones, their subtle tactility. The light keeps shifting, the shadows from the trees outside play against the old walls. The brittle texture of days past. And there’s a distinct smell. Humidity. The infested wood of the altar. The incense I burned some days before.
Behold, the latest artwork by Thomas. Benches made from rare, salvaged apple wood that gave off a faint, sweet scent while being worked. They are quite sparse and functional to my taste, but they resonate with me emotionally. Because they transmit a sensation of tranquillity. The balance and harmony my mind, overflowing with whirling thoughts, so craves.
So, I sit for a while and think about the cooler months, practical thoughts about chutneys and sauces. A freezer that’s filling up. Then on to the state of the world since the pandemic broke out, feeling that there’s yet again a shift in the air and it’s not just the change of seasons. And then back to reflections about preserves and jams. Off I go to gather and collect in autumn’s softer sunlight. My heart a little heavy with uncertainty, yet calmly curious about what may emerge.