for everything, a season

I felt the first chill of autumn air the other day. it’s more then just temperature, the air starts to smell different and the the sunlight starts to lose some vibrancy…

it’s fall.

fall on a farm is a strange and bittersweet time. the food is amazing, plucked straight from the garden onto the plate. but the harvest means watching the plants I’ve nurtured slowly die, and sometimes helping them die faster.

my luscious pea patch is now nothing but dirt. my potato forest is a tangle of yellowing plants slowly being undermined to reach the crop below. my tomato plants are leaning, almost leafless jumbles peppered with fruits of varying ripeness trying desperately to soak up the last of the sunshine.

it’s delicious. but it’s also sad.

or maybe it’s not the plants dying that’s making me melancholy…

maybe it’s what their deaths and that chill in the air symbolizes for me.

I came here during The Panic in March, and quickly fell in love with the lifestyle. I picked an arbitrary but seemingly distant end date for my self imposed exile. “I’ll just stay until the crops come in.”

and now the crops.

they are coming in.

every cool breeze and yellowing leaf reminds me that soon I will leave this place. soon the sweeping views and sweet country air and chirping birds will be only a precious memory.

don’t get me wrong. I am also fully ready to go back to the city. I miss my friends and my boyfriends and the thrill of a first date and drinking prosecco on a patio and my hairstylist and coffee shops and steak tartare and bookstores and high heels clacking on the sidewalks. I know I’ll be thrilled to get back into the swing of my glamorous coastal lifestyle. I love being a fancy pants escort in a city made of glass. it’s everything I ever wanted, everything I dreamed of as a little girl who longed for more then simple country life.

but my heart will always bring me back to the countryside. to the woods and the wildlife and the kind and gentle people who live here. living here has reconnected me to my roots. and like I’ve said before, it has motivated and inspired me to live up to my potential and create a life for myself that spans both worlds.

there’s no need to feel bad for me in my melancholy, it comes from a deep love. I am grateful for my sadness because it means I have something to lose, something to work for and ultimately something to build a home out of.

so when you see me out there grinding now you know, for me the accumulation of wealth has a distinct and focused purpose: a home in the woods supported by a hustle in the city.

and I’ll do it too.

just watch.

in the meantime, the shadows are getting long and I must prepare for winter.

see you soon my darlings.

ingredients straight from the garden for a typical fall dinner