The season is shifting, bringing melancholy thoughts with it as summer slips away, the golden days recede, and nature resumes its tale of loss. Time to turn within and prepare to hunker down. Think comfort, nurture. Gathered bags of pine cones with a friend last week, getting ready for wood fires, anticipating cosiness. Pulled a woollen scarf from the wardrobe before taking a beach walk in the wind. Bought the last beef steak tomatoes, cracked and marked with late season hardship. Bought feijoas, sweet and juicy. Each season has its old parts, that wither and demand release. Each season also has its new energy, and its own treasure. I need to remember this, when I find myself resisting, wanting to hold on to the old season that is stomping on my knuckles, demanding release.