Late August yielded the most fruitful harvest I can remember from the orchard on the property where I live. A modest patch of warped and gnarled trees laden with heritage apples and pears and plums. For weeks as they ripened to their fullest form and colour, friends and family, raven and deer, gathered beneath the boughs to reap their riches.
I am no meteorologist, but I understand this abundance did not come into being overnight. This year’s bounty was produced by a century of cycles, passing through phases of drifting winds, relentless storms, gentle sunbeams, frigid morning frosts, hot dry heat. A beautiful lesson this shift in seasons holds for us; a blessing.
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I am one who verbally rejoices every day the sun shines. In a contest of seasons, I would choose eternal summer in a heartbeat, never tiring of the long hours of light, the fullness of activity, the blissful warmth. Soon after the summer solstice passes, I feel the dread of diminishing days start to seep in. The imminent arrival of that formidable triad of dark, wet, and cold so familiar to those who inhabit the Pacific Northwest.
My heart knows better though, and the natural order brings me back to what it really needs: a time for every season. To shine, to let go, to dig deep, to renew. For as bright as the summer glows, I know there is a depth of beauty to be found in winter, too. It beckons us to turn inside, to look inward, to do the tough work of facing down doubt, fear, grief, regret. A patient and persistent process of grounding, companioned by rest and comfort, the feeling of fire warming from within.
The beauty lies in knowing that from autumn and the shedding of what no longer serves, comes spring with its promise of rebirth and transformation. It seems fitting that my migration from north to south coincides with these transition seasons.
For the past year, I’ve been grateful for the shelter and warmth of my BC island home, a safe space to practice purging, starting with the stuff in my closet to the old hats and habits I hold onto tightly. This release is a continual effort, but I’m learning that the less I resist, the more I make way for good to emerge. I now feel prepared to embrace a fresh opportunity to grow as I return to a beloved hearth space in New Zealand. Both excited by the adventure that awaits and curious about the unknown, I’m committed to bringing an open heart this season calls for.
The orchard trees are my inspiration—undisturbed by the falling foliage they deepen their roots, ready to stand a little taller and blossom anew.
- Emily
