It’s still summer here in the Northern Hemisphere, and for many of you that’s a glorious thing! So hey hey hurrah! Me? I’m looking forward to chillier mornings and cooler evenings. Wearing my tattered, holey-most-holy Duke hoodie. Sitting by the fire pit sipping decaf infused with Bailey’s. Ample Bailey’s. Walking through my garden and not emerging with a dozen mosquito bites. Hot cocoa. Leaving the oven door open after baking cookies. Gardening morning to evening and not even noticing the passing sun. Yes, I love autumn and winter.
As I sit outside a lovely cafe near my house, Chanticleer Cafe and Bakery, and write this post, sweat is dripping down my back and the sun is baking a crumb of quiche left on the plate. I know. I know. Complaining doesn’t make it better, but it feels like at least I’ve tried.
Siting in my garden is a favorite pastime. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on my pergola swing or my meditation bench that my brother Bill gave me shortly before he died. There’s also the chairs by my fire pit. I love gazing into a fire and pondering. It seems passive, but it most certainly is anything but. I’m dreaming when I peer into those flames. I’m wishing. I’m hoping. I’m thinking deep thoughts. Except when I’m not. Sometimes I chat with a companion, most often Chuck. Sometimes others. Fire-watching hearkens back to earlier times when our ancestors–both recent and ancient–depended on fire for survival. They also used the fireside to tell stories, remember and share myths, and come into communion with one another. Maybe that’s what I miss most about these modern times–there’s not enough fireside storytelling.
I wrote about sitting in my garden and the uses and beauty of garden benches for the Fall issue of Seasons Style & Design magazine. Take a look, then please let me know your favorite spots to sit in your garden or elsewhere. Do you enjoy the fire as much as I do? What draws you to certain places? Here’s the link to the column: The Garden Guru
And now, for the next issue, I’m writing about winter and one of my favorite winter-blooming plants: hellebores. Yes, I’m sitting here dripping sweat and pounding out words that describe these tough-as-nails, yet exquisite blooms that bloom in the coldest weather. Chalk that up to writer’s imagination.
Then I’m going to go home, sit down inside my air-conditioned home, and do what we southerners call sit a spell. And read some stories. Wish you could join me. Or maybe you’ll want to wait until I light that fire pit up and pour the Bailey’s. Come on now–come sit a spell.