Hey Friends and welcome back to my little corner of the internet,
September always feels like a deep breath to me, the kind you take when the air finally cools just enough to make you reach for a sweater, even if you don’t really need it yet. It’s the month where summer loosens its grip, the light shifts, and everything seems to whisper, slow down… settle in… something new is coming.
Wednesday was a big day for me. I had all four of my wisdom teeth cut out and to say the pain is dreadful would be an understatement. I've moved on to heat, because the icepack is no longer helping. I'm resting but my world doesn't stop turning all because I'm feeling under the weather. Tonight, as I sit in my favorite spot on the couch and write this out to you the bottom has dropped, drenching the earth. I hear the rain pelt down on the roof and the thunder echoing in the distance.
Tomorrow morning if you walk out to our garden, you’ll see… well, not much. Just soil waiting patiently, like a friend who knows I’m doing my best. I still need to plant the fall greens, the herbs, the last-minute hopes I always tuck into the earth this time of year. It may be too late for carrots, but I have to try. Last year, everything I planted went to waste, so I'm hoping this time I'll have more harvest when the winter garden is ready.
There’s something comforting about a bare garden in September. It’s honest. It’s a reminder that growth doesn’t always happen on schedule, and that God isn’t in a hurry even when I am. The soil is ready. The season is ready. And I’m getting there too.
After the heartbreak of losing our sweet kitten, Gizmo, the house has felt a little too quiet. But this month, we’re finally welcoming a new little one, tiny paws, bright eyes, and that soft, hopeful energy only a baby animal can bring. We go to get her tomorrow, and I cannot wait to see the look on Little's face. I know it will feel like a part of us is healing. Maybe even feel like God giving us a gentle “here’s something to smile about.”
And yes… we still have one baby chicken outside, strutting around like it owns the place. With four broody, opinionated hens clucking behind it. It's small but mighty, determined but clueless, and honestly the perfect picture of September: growing, learning, finding its footing in a world that’s shifting around and changing quickly.
I watch the mother hens tending to this tiny, lonely baby and think, we’re all doing that, aren’t we? Trying to figure out our next step while the season changes under our feet.
Most nights now, I find myself craving hot cocoa, a tad for the taste, but mostly for the winter tradition. The slowing down and holding something warm while the world cools off.
September is the month that teaches me to savor again. To breathe again. To look around at the small changes... and see them as blessings instead of unfinished tasks or another thing on a checklist.
So, here’s to September: To the quiet beginnings. To the things still waiting to be planted. To the tiny creatures reminding us that life keeps going. To the warm cocoa moments that stitch our days together.
Fall is coming, and with it, a softer pace. I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you. And I’m grateful for every small, sweet change happening on our little farm. Until next time, dear friend.
Stay Blessed,
-FASP