autumn. and all things new.


september is gorgeously wrapping itself up, and just about every bit of me wants to be around-the-clock outside, or baking by open kitchen windows with views of the lake and the trees turning crimson and gold, witnessing the last of the summer tinged sun.

september has a spell to it, this silky power- something is always ending, about to end. sometimes we’re aware of this or we just have that whirling sense that nothing is standing still. i think even we are coaxed by the season’s changing current, a gentle glide, an urging to go on now with what we've grown.

it's alot like trying to appreciate the beauty of the days getting darker instead of missing the attention from the sun. it’s alot like being smarter than lamenting a movement that will always happen, has always happened, that we will do nothing to alter or stop. that we are oblivious if by now we aren’t even a little in love with the never-ending new.

i didn’t catch on to the magic of this for so much of my living- wary of change, looking back anxiously and always at what was. i'm lucky to have learned and re-learned, and even now learn again and again in small, challenging ways, to accept the life that comes to me, that "fits", that flows, that wants to be around- because we are meant for what is not a struggle to be.

i know the roughest season is nearing- it may just yet be turning october, but in idaho, the first taste of chill has us all bracing for the long and unexpected. i know i will be head over heels for the startling, breath-halting whiteness of everything dripping in snow- the sparkle. i know i will be furious with how brutal the cold in the dead of january can get. but right now, the weather is heaven. the apples are rolling in, soon butternut squash will be lighting up every one of my favorite fall dishes, in abundance on every menu, at every restaurant in town. i'll be baking warm-noted and rich bready, mapley, nutty, spice-drenched winter comforts and craving chocolate, instead of berries by the basket, again. and what i feel reverberating to the bone is a newness about to come that i want only to welcome with open arms. that i only have the slightest scent of how good it can be.

get ready guys, give yourself the gift of some real good change.  

Katy Vestal