I caught myself feeling sulky.
I know I ‘should’ know better, but the truth is, I felt let down this weekend when I woke in my cabin on the land to find that I felt cold, and had to turn on the heater for the first time in months.
Yes, it’s that time of year when the clocks have been turned back and the season seems to lurch into autumn. Almost overnight it seems, the nights are cooler and so are the days once clouds come rolling in to block the sun. I realise that without knowing it at the time, I’ve taken my last swim of the season.
Sulkiness like this, being offended that the season is changing, calls for consciousness. As I sat on a promontory down the far end of the surf beach, watching the tide going out, I knew I needed a ritual to help me let go.
Turning to the flax bush nearby, I pulled out a little knife from my back pack and asked the flax if I could take a leaf. The answer was yes, as long as it’s from the outside, so the life of the plant is not affected.
Then I was able to weave a small raft. The yellow flowers that danced on the hillside were a perfect symbol for the golden days of summer.
Goodbye summer. My fantasy was that you would last forever, but I’m letting go of that, and my wish to cling.
The waves were so glad to take the little raft that they almost knocked me off my feet.
And so my tenderly woven little raft was broken up
and washed out of sight, with just a flower or two left to float on the waves.
Goodbye summer, I’ll miss you, but I’m not sulking any more. I’m looking forward to lighting the first fire of autumn tonight and roasting chestnuts for dinner.