Yesterday’s rain has been followed by sunshine and a strong breeze that feels just like September. My September days are so different than usual and I feel such mixed emotion about that. I long for my wood road walks on these crisp days but instead walk city blocks and sit in city parks. I am not busy with harvest or daily batches of pickles but instead have more time to sit at my desk to write. To think that perhaps not a pickle will be made is so strange . I know this September is one of my own making ; my own choice to step away and allow the rest, reprieve and renewal of a quiet, solitary escape to a small space in the city to heal a worn and weary soul. But every previous September makes its way into my head and heart as I sit here alone. So many September moments surface in my thoughts and fill me with joy and sorrow and a melancholy I am feeling on this beautiful September morning. Yesterday was a September day of note. Nineteen years ago yesterday Waylon Zachary was born. I rejoiced in his birth feeling a connection to my son through Donnie who survived the accident that took our boy’s life. I now see this small boy becoming a man now just one year younger than Zac was when he left us. Yesterday was also the third anniversary of the day my mother left us. Her presence remains in my memory and the very essence of who I am. I see her hands when I look down at my own and more and more see her face in the mirror. September days will soon end and give way to October and on we will go. I will navigate another month away from my normal, working toward a better way and a brighter hope. It is the one day at a time that is propelling me forward and I see the seasons as the framework for that.