I am always reminded of how quickly autumn is ushered out. In mid-October, it seems the shades of red, orange, and gold will stay with us forever. Yet in early November, that fantasy is cut short. Invariably, the days following Halloween bring a great reckoning to the landscape. The colors quickly fade, and what began as one drop or two of fallen leaves quickly becomes a great maelstrom. Almost overnight, it seems, the world is covered with leaves.

My garden feels the way I do about this season. It’s not striving anymore; it’s holding steady and seeing what it can do without much effort at all. Flowers bloom on the bush beans, even after the second flush has come and gone. Will these new flowers, too, ripen into fruit? Somehow, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I’m thankful for what I get. I do not ask for much of anything.

Over these last two weeks, the change has been undeniable — the light is fading, the nights are closing in. At first, there was almost a sense of disbelief - is it getting dark so soon? And yet, each passing day brought acceptance as we slowly began to process that summer is bidding us farewell. Our days have shortened to April's length, and while April feels like it is comfortably stretching out, September feels like it is cozily tucking us in.

The season of Fading Heat, which straddles the end of August and the beginning of September, is a unique time in North America. It is, perhaps, the one time of year when there is an innate understanding of, simultaneously, “don’t bother me” coupled with an innate urge to get your house in order. After all, looming September is when many of us get back to business, with the first half of the month full of excitement as we return to structured activities after the relative freedom of summer... It is a time to simply “be.”