The Delight of Decay on an October Eve

I moved my coffee mug around my desk all day, placing it so that it captured the late September sunlight that crept out between the rains. I didn't just want the caffeine this day. I wanted the golden light filling me, the blessedly cool air flowing over me, and the clicking and barking of the crows by the river echoing through my bones. There is no stopping the flood current of autumn now and I for one am wading out into the incoming tide, delirious under flame-leafed trees and the wanton scent of the land as it begins turn toward decay.

I am ready for this time of year. I am welcoming the picturesque death and rot. I wore my nerves thin on heat and smoke and wildfires this summer. Now I'm reveling in ridiculous gourds, tomatoes flaunting their multicoloured heirloom-ness, and the haunting songs of geese flying overhead. Dress me in apples and call me Pomona.

If you've been around Rue and Hyssop in the early autumn you'll know that there's a foolish amount of fun that unfolds each year in the month of October. I've grown a small garden here in the blog-verse over the past nine years and I like to share my harvest with those that stroll by my neck of the woods. When I'm out wandering and I pick up something that makes me especially happy, I grab an extra copy for one of you. I also encounter wondrous creatures who create enchantment and wish to share it, and I'm lucky enough to get to pass those gifts on to you too.

There has been, in the past three years especially, a moment's pause whenever October approaches. There is a part of me that wonders if this conviviality that I throw myself into is appropriate in a world where there is so much unrest, pain, and political and social discontent. There are protests to attend, politicians to contact, and injustices to call out. I believe in those things, in standing up, in caring for each other, in saying "no more." I also believe that sometimes we could really use some peace, some joy, a friendly moment with another human with no expectations.

I'd like to think that the October silliness I engage in each year gives folks something small to grin about. I hope that it introduces people to authors and artists they may not have stumbled across. I know that the people that get something cool in their mailbox from the festivities aren't unhappy they came by to toss their name in the hat, and I am always tired-but-smiling at the end of the month. So I think that until it feels really off-colour to pass along some joy each October I'm going to continue doing it as long as I am able (which I hope is a long time). This blog, even in its quieter state the past few years, has been a true delight for me. I've met wonderful people, made incredible friends, and grown my strange, thorny heart so many sizes since beginning this journey.

For those who know the routine by now, grab a cup of your favourite autumn-spiced beverage and put your feet up. If you are new around here, welcome. It's easy to get the hang of things, and everyone is very friendly. (Mind the one grumpy cat though. She blows raspberries instead of hissing but she will still swat at you if you get too close.)

Can you feel the excitement as the last hours of September slip away? Have you caught the intoxicating scents of woodsmoke, ripe apples, or the slow withering of the final summer flowers?

Let's do this October thing again.

PS - if you are not into giveaways then I'll catch you in November - no worries. I'd like to say that I'll drop off a bewitching autumn post here for your reading pleasure but this month is also the beginning of a big work project for me each year, so I won't make any promises I can't keep.

PPS - Rebecca from Kings Road Apothecary sent out a very helpful post, Self Care in Triggering Times that is brimming with ideas to ease your heart and body in these days of troubling news and media. If you are having a difficult time, please take care of yourself, call a friend, and/or ask for help.