Erica has a post about gardening (okay, she has an entire blog about gardening, but bear with me) in which she says:
“There is a moment when summer gives in and fall has won. You will feel it when the air is still hot and your shoulders are still bronzed and the beans are on and the calendar still says summer. It will look like summer, but something about the intensity of the light will change, all of a sudden, and you will know in your little squirrel heart that cold times are approaching fast and it is best to gather the nuts. This feeling is epiphanic and never gets old.”
Personally, my guess is that Erica’s moment probably happens some time around early August, when (a) the beans and berries and tomatoes start flooding the kitchen, but also (b) when the days start getting noticeably shorter, even though they’re yet a long way off from being shorter than the nights.
If that’s the case, it doesn’t make her moment less true and, frankly, I’d like to think it speaks to a closer connection with the turning seasons than your average urban-dweller is likely to be aware of on a conscious level (mind you, I could be wrong).
I’ve talked about stuff like this, myself, in posts like this one about how, on some August nights, after drinking cider on the balcony and eating cucumber salad and wayside greens for dinner, I catch the smell of October in the air; or how, come late September (sometimes earlier), my heart starts yearning towards knitting, spinning, chandlery, and hibernation even though the days are barely shorter than the nights.
In that vein, I would argue that there is also a moment in one’s little squirrel heart when spring gives over to summer, when the season of Waking Up gives over to the season of Fecundity, when, not to put too fine a point on it, my heart and body start yearning for the smoothness of cool stone beads between my fingers, for planting, for gathering, and for sex.
I got this feeling today. Have been getting it for the past week or so, in fact, but it hit me really hard today – on Beltain, appropriately enough – that I want to get out my beading kit after a Winter of mostly avoiding it; that I want to make care packages of seeds for my friends who have garden space (with the hopes of getting some of their harvest come October, I confess – benign self-interest strikes again); that the dandelion rosettes I see on my walk to work, and which I’ve been watching get bigger (by inches) every day since the weather started staying consistently above freezing even over night, are looking about ready to start harvesting; that Date Night is looking more like “let’s go for a walk in this sunshine and make out on a street corner” than “let’s curl up under half a dozen blankets and snuggle ‘til we fall asleep”.
I’m glad that Summer’s on its way. :-)
Meliad the Birch Maiden.
 I miss my balcony, dammit. :-(
 Conveniently, since I’ve got a commission to sort out. :-D
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