2018 late summer header.png

Late Summer Newsletter

September 20, 2018

Dear Friend,

This is harvest time, associated with the Earth Element in Chinese medicine.  Garden and farmers’ markets are filled with ripe produce. Fruit is ripening in our garden and wild grapes perfume our woods. The energy in the universe is beginning to slow down and move inward as the days shorten and nights become cooler.  

Large fluffy hydrangeas make a pink -tinged show at the back of my flowerbeds. Monarchs cover the Mexican sunflowers in my garden, as caterpillars munch through the milkweed in their journey to metamorphosis. Hummingbirds are still drinking nectar from clematis, honeysuckle and snapdragons before migrating south.  Although my garden bore many crops, it was a disappointing harvest with tomato blight, zucchini spoilage from torrential rains, and string beans covered with rust. The heat and humidity were daunting this summer. Is this the new norm? Yet my garlic harvest was abundant, peaches sweet, raspberries ripening each day, and Asian pears covering the pear trees.

I have been thinking about my practice and the clients I treat each day at work. You are all my richest harvest. It’s an honor to reach into your lives and see what moves and inspires you, feeds you, and what challenges you. This is a privilege and gift. I am grateful for this work that allows me to open and redirect your energy to help you be your best self. In that regard I feel my gardening is successful and my harvest is abundant. Thank you for this opportunity.

Late summer is also a time for asking questions: Have we learned to take care of ourselves? Is our work fulfilling? Do we have a good balance of giving and receiving in our lives? Are we getting what we need? Do we feel satisfaction in our lives?

Have a sweet harvest and take in the bounty of your life and what the earth has to offer.

Margaret Ryding


Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer

We turned into the drive,
and gravel flew up from the tires
like sparks from a fire. So much
to be done—the unpacking, the mail
and papers ... the grass needed mowing ....
We climbed stiffly out of the car.

The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled.

And then we noticed the pear tree,

the limbs so heavy with fruit
they nearly touched the ground.

We went out to the meadow; our steps

made black holes in the grass;
and we each took a pear,
and ate, and were grateful.

- Jane Kenyon