September smells are crisp, cinnamon-coloured leaves falling from the maple tree out back; woodstove-smoke curling up through the cedar and pine trees in the early morning and early evening hours; soup simmering on the stove; soccer gear drying in the mud room, the smell of wet straw wafting out of the goat pen.
September is new school supplies and clean white socks fresh out of the package. It is the promise of a new year, a new chance, a new beginning. The feel of autumn pulls me in more so than any other season on the calendar. I always thought I was more a summer child, being born in July and all, but it is Fall in all its glorious colours and possibilities that I love most. Trees and flowers are dying away, the apple trees are picked and jellied, the harvest is here, pumpkins are ripe, scarecrows are wearing fresh corn husks, herbs are drying, pantry shelves are filled with canned peaches and crabapple jelly.
There is death in this season but in that death there is the reminder that the wheel keeps turning, the circle remains unbroken. The leaves on the ground will nourish the soil over winter and keep the spring bulbs warm under the depths. The apple trees will rest and look proudly on over the cold, wet winter as I spread apple lime jelly on my toast as I wait for my tea to brew.
The September sun is the earth's last showing of warmth before the darkness of winter rolls in and makes the days shorter and the nights longer. The sun is showing off one last time this month before the frost shows up close to Halloween.
The September sun speaks to me somehow, soothing my fear of darkness and chill, with a soft message on the autumn wind of "this too......shall pass".
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