Summer Wanes
Reflections on my birthday, migratory birds, and life's inevitable transitions
My birthday arrived on August 24th, a bittersweet time when apples ripen and summer wanes. When the hypnotic hum of crickets and katydids replace cheerful melodies of morning birdsong. When migrating singers like the wood thrush are on the move, flying hundreds of miles at night, guided by the moon and stars.
On this years’ trip around the sun, I woke feeling immensely grateful for my body and for Earth. One and the same, really. I made my coffee, infused with wildcrafted reishi, and sat outside next to jewelweed, watching hummingbirds relish the plant’s nectar. Soon, these resilient birds will travel, too. Unlike the wood thrush, hummingbirds travel during the day, refueling in the morning, and foraging again in the late afternoon.
I haven't traveled at all this summer. My greatest joys have been simple: gathering the weekly CSA bounty at Natural Roots with my partner, picking wild blueberries and green beans together, and finding mushrooms like reishi in the forest.
Staying in one place has made me more intimate with my wild neighbors — the hummingbirds who compete over jewelweed nectar, the adorable bumblebees who enjoy wildflowers like self-heal, red clover, and goldenrod, and the local coyotes I hear and catch glimpses of. And one of my favorite singers: the wood thrush of the forest.
Staying put has fostered intimacy and depth. I'm learning how to be a better steward and neighbor to the wild ones. There's a deep fulfillment in staying put, in being present, and accounting for my place in the ecosystem. It's a reciprocal relationship, a tender exchange of care.
Just days ago, I watched as countless bank swallows, the smallest of swallows to nest here in Massachusetts, gathered on my rooftop, preparing for their long flight. Tree swallows, their larger cousins, have also begun their journey along the Atlantic coast towards warmer climates. With their departure, summer’s song fades, punctuated by crows, blue jays, cardinals, and the sorrowful call of mourning doves.
The annual departure of our winged neighbors often goes unnoticed in the frenzy of back-to-school preparations and last minute vacations. We lament the loss of play and for some, carefree days, and return to routine. But maybe the melancholy associated with summer's end is also associated with absence of our wild companions.
Their migration serves as a poignant reminder that relationships come and go, and of the cyclical nature of life. That a chapter is closing as a new one begins. Their absence is a reminder of life's impermanence.
I reflected on this when interviewed for
’s wonderful Beyond newsletter. When she asked: ”What’s a guiding force in your life?”, this is how I answered:Interdependence and impermanence. Knowing that I am related to every living being from the dandelion to the pine tree to the coyote keeps me in a state of awe. I often think about the fact that every breath I take, and every cell in my body, carries echoes of ancient stardust and the legacy of countless generations. I also know that everything has a season, and no being can last forever. It’s a truth that inspires me to be intensely present and to cherish loved ones before they slip away. I try not to cling, although sometimes it’s hard. I love deeply. I’m constantly learning and unlearning, and peeling back layers of conditioning to rewild myself and my relationship with the living earth.
Autumn is my favorite season and it also breaks my heart.
As the trees shed their leaves and the earth prepares for slumber, the seeds of new life are already being sown.
TRACK YOUR FEATHERED FRIENDS:
https://explorer.audubon.org/home?utm_source=google&utm_campaign=20240100_google_grant&utm_medium=paid_search&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwz7C2BhDkARIsAA_SZKaQKKYSpbbNK5RfP1qWEdoE2Z9261gNdiUtidNYUXSySRtEOVVQI5AaAmIDEALw_wcB&layersPanel=expand&legend=collapse
TURN DOWN YOUR LIGHTS:
When you notice when the forest has gone quiet, or by tracking seasonal migration, you can help the wood thrush and other night time travelers by turning down your lights as an evening ritual of solidarity. A ritual in memory of their song, in hopes of their safe return.
A FEW MORE THINGS TO SHARE:
BIRTHDAY READING: On my birthday, I had the honor of reading from my forthcoming book, Earthly Bodies, at the Dream Away Lodge Reading Series. Stepping in at the last minute for the incredible Ocean Vuong was a daunting task, but one I couldn't refuse. I chose to share the Wood Thrush chapter, "Semantics," which explores themes of courtship, falling in love, the challenges of communication, and life's inevitable transitions. My book will be released in just one month, and I can't wait to share it with you.
I FINISHED MY AUDIOBOOK!: The weekend before my birthday, I had a quiet celebration. After days in the recording studio, talking from 10am - 5pm, I finished reading my audiobook. I craved quiet. I wanted to listen to the land instead of talking about the land. I picked apples from the surrounding trees, sat outside and savored them.
I’VE JOINED THE PROJECT COYOTE PACK AS AN AMBASSADOR: I had a wonderful conversation Camilla Fox, Project Coyote Founder and Executive Director last week.You can watch and listen to it here:
Finally, I hope you’ll join me for Writing For the Wild. 50% of proceeds will go towards Project Coyote’s efforts to protect North America's wild carnivores and promote compassionate coexistence through education, science, advocacy, and coalition building. Use the code WEEDS+WOLVES8 for a special newsletter discount.🐾
A nourishing read. I'm a Virgo too, my birthday this Thursday, and I'm noticing the shifts especially with the birds, and taking to working from the patio, making a fire outdoors and stargazing, and generally drinking in the time outside before I pull inward. Transition month. A time of betwixt and between for me. Happy Birthday, and I hope Autumn treats you well.