September Crept in

September slipped in slowly and sneakily. This year, after the end-of-August shock of autumnal storms alternating with meltingly hot late summer sun, the usually slow transition from summer to autumn has felt even more like a powerful threshold in both ourselves, nature, and our seasonal self-care.

This time is always a shift from outward growth to harvest and inward reflection. Across many traditions, seasonal wisdom, folklore, and spiritual belief systems, this turning point reflects many themes: equilibrium, gratitude, and the unavoidable, constant change in the natural cycles of life, death, and rebirth.
Beyond the physical gathering of crops, this time brings an invitation for internal reflection.
What has grown over the summer? What literal and metaphorical seeds bore fruit? What intentions, crops, or jobs require focus, gathering, or finishing before autumn, then winter sets in?
The Autumn Equinox is fast approaching as I write this; it’s the perfect time to take a moment to pause, reflect, and recalibrate.
To balance the action and fire of summer with the introspection and grounding earthiness of autumn and the fast-approaching winter.
September is always a busy month of my life on the land.
A time of harvests with much to preserve, dry, and store.
Both here and in the UK, tomatoes are dripping from the plants; gardeners are getting sick of finding ways to use up the gluts of courgettes and cucumbers. When there is late summer sun to take advantage of, we prepare for winter, clear the last of the long grass, and occasionally get some building done
Almost literally making hay while the sun shines.

Throughout my childhood, September meant blackberries—foraging and eating bags of them, staining our skin black with the juice, and if any made it home, Mumma would make crumble with the windfall apples and the dark, juicy fruits.
This year, the continued heatwave meant blackberries were even earlier than last year, so we enjoyed a few crumbles in the heat of mid-August, but now the nights are cooler and snuggling up with a good pudding seems more appealing. Both they and the elderberries were finished by the time I arrived in the UK early Sept.

This year, my usual September routine has been disrupted by these trips away, but one theme has remained constant:
One of the ultimate symbols of late summer and early autumn.

The Apple.
This humble fruit held deep symbolic power across pre-Christian European traditions,
serving as a bridge between worlds and symbolizing the softening veil as the light wanes toward late autumn.
With the seeds at its core, the apple holds the promise of new life, even as the tree drops its leaves—a symbol of endurance and hope through the darkness of the fast-approaching cold half of the year.

As one of the heartiest fruits of the season, apples also represent the abundance and nourishment of later harvests, the fulfillment and sweetness of success after labor, and the divine generosity of the universe. When sliced crosswise, an apple reveals a natural five-pointed star or pentagram formed by its seed chambers. In earth-based traditions, this Star of Wisdom and Protection represents the five elements—earth, air, fire, water, and spirit—and symbolizes protection, hidden knowledge, and holistic wholeness.
In Celtic mythology, Avalon—the mystical isle of healing and immortality, where Glastonbury is located today, literally means "the Isle of Apples." Originating from the Proto-Celtic Abalonā, meaning "place of apples," Avalon was revered as an enchanted earthly paradise, a sanctuary outside of linear time.
In Norse mythology, the goddess Iðunn guarded the golden apples of youth, that kept the gods ageless.

In Celtic folk customs, apple peelings were cast over the shoulder to divine a future beloved’s initials, linking the fruit to romance, intuition, and fate.
These days, apples still feature in more modern traditions.
You may remember apple bobbing as a child during Halloween celebrations,
or the traditional toffee apples of Bonfire Night which are still a staple at travelling fairs.
September life for me in both countries involves apples in many forms:
Apple pressing with my parents to make hundreds of litres of their famous apple juice, Making seemingly endless jars of apple sauce, apple chutney, and dried apple slices for use over the next year. Apple Crumble of course, and finding new and interesting ways to include them in dinners, before wrapping the rest in newspaper to store for winter use.
This is one of my most favourite things to do. If you have a cool, dark space to store them and excess apples, it is by far the simplest way to save them.
The smell of slightly musty paper and apples takes me straight back to my granny's garage over 30 years ago; even if I didn't love apples and abhhore food waste, I think I would still do this practie just for that smell and the time travel it offers me.
Back in the present time, this week I need to make a good dairy free cake for my mother in laws birthday this week, and so of course Im turning to apples.
My favourite apple recipe of the moment is my Sticky Spicy Apple Cake. It's delicious, and can be easily vegan, wheat- and sugar-free without losing any of its wonderment. If you would like it, click here…