It's coming to that time of year again, when the evenings begin to draw in, and the harvest begins.
I always find this change in seasons gives me time to reflect on everything that has happened over the summer. There is something about those first darker evenings, the slight chill in the air and the changing landscape that makes me naturally turn inward and take stock.
This summer, the weather made such a difference.
It was so unusual to have almost uninterrupted sunshine here in Wales while the children were on holiday. Day after day of blue skies and warmth, without that familiar question every morning of whether we needed waterproofs, wellies or both.
And we made the most of it.
There were lazy days on the beach with the grandchildren, beautiful days in the mountains for Oliver and his biking, meals outside and those wonderfully long evenings when nobody feels quite ready to go indoors.
But, of course, all that sunshine came with its own problems.
The yin and the yang.
While we were enjoying the weather, the land was struggling.
By the middle of August, our cows and sheep had eaten virtually all the grass, and we had to start giving them their winter feed. Food for the animals was becoming scarce, and water was something we were increasingly conscious of too.
It felt strange.
To be sitting on a beach feeling grateful for another beautiful sunny day while, at the same time, looking at the fields at home and desperately hoping for rain.
Perhaps that has been one of the lasting impressions this summer has left me with — a greater appreciation of just how precious, and sometimes fragile, the things we take for granted can be.
Water.
Grass.
Food.
The changing seasons.
Things that are simply there most of the time, until suddenly they aren't.
And now, as I sit looking out of my window, the rain is driving sideways across a seemingly never-ending grey Welsh sky.
Normally, I might look at it and wish it would stop.
Today, I don't.
I think about the fields soaking it up. The ground slowly recovering. The streams filling and the landscape beginning to turn green again.
And somehow that grey sky doesn't seem quite so gloomy.
Instead, I feel grateful.
Grateful for the summer we've had, for the memories we made and for the sunshine we were lucky enough to enjoy.
But also grateful for the rain.
Perhaps that's what the changing seasons quietly remind us: we need both.
The sunshine and the rain.
The abundance and the scarcity.
The long days when life seems to spill endlessly ahead of us, and the darker evenings that invite us to come home, slow down and reflect.
The yin and the yang.
So, as one season begins to slip into another, I'm not mourning the end of summer.
I'm looking forward.
And as the rain continues to hammer against my window, I'm feeling strangely grateful and hopeful for the season ahead.
Before You Go…
As one season gives way to another, perhaps take a moment to notice what is changing around you.
The light is different. The evenings are arriving a little earlier. The leaves are beginning to turn and, here in Wales at least, the rain has most definitely returned.
It's easy to wish away the season we're in. To long for summer when it's cold, or complain about the heat when the sun refuses to disappear.
Nature doesn't resist the changing seasons. It simply moves with them.
Perhaps we can learn something from that.
So, whatever the season ahead brings, I'm going to try to welcome it rather than wish myself somewhere else.
And today, at least, I'm going to be grateful for the rain.
Until next time, take care of yourself and notice the season you're in. xx www.tenaciouswellness.co.uk