It’s been coming for a while you know. I took these pictures almost two weeks ago.
The hawthorne berries were almost ripe.
The blackberries were reaching the end of their peak . . .
The cedars were shedding.
But only yesterday, on the last day of summer, was my firewood delivered.
I don’t want you to think that I wait until the last minute on these important things. I’ve contacted four firewood guys since June who promised delivery “next week.” Except this time, firewood guy was reliable. And the funny thing? He was in preschool with my son over 20 years ago. I’ve known him since he was four-years-old. I just didn’t know he was in the firewood business. I called him yesterday morning and 4 hours later the wood was delivered. For those of you who have furnaces and central heating and don’t know about firewood guys . . . this is extraordinary. And I am ever so grateful. We take care of our children and then they take care of us. What a deal!
I had my first fire of the season last weekend, and only yesterday did I get up on the roof and clean the chimney from last season. Here I am as a chimney sweep. 
The young man who works for me sometimes, Chris, was here and he put up the ladder and took it down. (He also held it while I went up and down it a few times but that was his need, not mine, and we want to keep the people around us feeling safe and comfortable.) Cleaning the chimney is easy but lifting that old, double long aluminum ladder is a challenge for me these days (I’m nursing a cracked rib I earned a few weeks ago, but even without that the ladder has gotten heavier the past few years.)
The firewood isn’t dry enough and needs more splitting for my tiny stove. I started the process. A dozen pieces each day. It’s part of my exercise routine. And if I don’t get it finished before the rains come, Chris will help. He can split in an afternoon what I can split in two weeks (or even a month.)
This evening I go to a gathering of women to witness together the birth of the new season. We’ll join for tea and sisterhood in a cob kiva built by a friend. This is not my Blessings group but another branch of my community. I am honored to join these women. And I’m honored to welcome the autumn . . . the season of harvest, then slowing down . . . of going inward . . . of digesting the activities of the year. The season of depth and rest and insight.
I’ve always loved autumn best . . .
