A Cornucopia of Plant Gratitude

With last week’s Harvest Moon and day soon to equal night, we are invited to turn inward. With school starting and chilly weather arriving, we are beckoned indoors. With the abundance of fresh food still bursting in gardens, some of us are busy coring, chopping, paring, dehydrating, juicing, simmering, and canning.

Or not. Perhaps, like me, you’re simply prioritizing the farmers market every week, ensuring you arrive early so the eggs, goat yogurt, and cantaloupe don’t run out. Or perhaps you’re finally volunteering at The Bloom Farm or your neighborhood garden because you were just too dang busy over the summer to plant anything. Perhaps you’re slowing down enough to notice the elderberries far off the trail and to pick mullein leaves before they lay to rest.

Or maybe life’s too hectic. You come home to apples dripping from the trees (and pay your kids to pick up the ones lying patiently on the ground), plum branches bending under the weight of golden or indigo juiciness (and you wonder when you’ll ever have time to turn them into jam), and the pears calling you outside to harvest them (just when you think you’ve finished husking the sweet corn for dinner).

As our rhythms change, perhaps you’ve noticed different food habits, too. (I crave sweet melons and fresh arugula.) Or maybe you’re redesigning your family’s meals around the cornucopia of beet greens and kale, shallots and garlic, crookneck squash and a rainbow of bell peppers. (Sauces, stir fry, roasted veggies galore!) Maybe you’re totally over basil, tomatoes, and cucumbers by now, or you’re just getting started. (Hello, pesto and panzanella). Maybe not.

I realize I’m romanticizing the shift in seasons. Perhaps some of us have not paused to notice or taken time to revel in the abundances. Many of us are so busy, overwhelmed, or distracted by finances, kids and relationships, that ripe and luscious food feels like a rose-colored dream. Someone else’s reality. Celebrating the equinox and aiming for balance is a passing thought; or the scale feels heavily tipped, and balance an illusion.

Herbalist Rosemary Gladstar reminds us, “Plants have enough spirit to transform our limited vision.”

Did you, for just a moment, lose your worries while envisioning September’s richness in my description? Seasonal transition allows us a pause to count our blessings. A moment to assess whether we’re indulging in the spirit of autumn or allowing our culture to weigh us down with copious material things, gadgets, activities, money. Deliberately, we can seek abundance in life’s miracles. Fruiting trees. A perfectly ripe tomato. A best friend. Our wellbeing.

If you haven’t been enjoying the plentitude of fall fruits and vegetables in your meals – you don’t have to eat plants to enjoy them (although I highly recommend doing so) – you can appreciate the essence of plants in other ways. It’s still plant therapy in my view when we inhale sage’s aroma while walking the dog; marvel at the twinkling aspens transform from green to gold; and hear the shuffle of veggie scraps and leaves as we turn the compost bin.

The key is to pause, witness, tune into ourselves while being present to our surroundings. Be filled up by plants in some way. That is one gift of changing seasons; presence and gratitude are available to all of us, all the time.

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