It's no secret that autumn is my favorite season. While long languid days of summer feel luxurious, and spring's eternal birth miracles always inspire, and winter's comforting rituals connect us to our past, it's autumn's color, clarity, moisture, and, yes, even entombing darkness that seems to remind us to turn inward, toward our loved ones and self-reflection, to appreciate hearth and home, and even to elevate the importance of sustenance in our lives.
This fall on our island has been virtually unprecedented in its beauty and classic autumn weather. Crisp days and chilly nights feel like precious gifts before the mists of November roll across our mornings.
The crockpot is hoisted out of the pantry more often. Tealights illuminate our family together space in the evenings. The light has gone on in the chicken coop to coax the hens to continue their egg-laying ways. Soon, mud will dominate our little landscape.
These weeks between late summer and early winter always feel a little like a breath held. This fall, I try to enjoy the leaves, turn my face toward the last rays of sun, embrace the change I know is coming, and get ready for the tasks of family, farm, livelihood, and life that this particular season brings.
I am a 50-year old community engagement manager, wife, mom and sort of farmer with a passion for sharing life and love through vibrant and delicious food. I work to slowly (very slowly) build a place where people come to know their food and take pleasure in its journey. I am fortunate to live in a beautiful island community outside Seattle, surrounded by nature and exceptional people, especially my loving and supportive Aussie husband, our amazing son, and a small band of fiercely dedicated friends. This site is dedicated to sharing what I learn as I stumble through everyday lessons on farming, animals, growing healthy food, parenting, and what the future holds.