In October.
Cherishing Seasons Letter.
Welcome to my Cherishing Seasons Letters. Written slowly, with muddy boots at the door and tea cooling beside me. Here, I share what the season is teaching me, what I’m reading and cooking, what’s blooming outside or growing wild in thought. There may be sketches from my walks, musings from the garden, or small seasonal rituals I’m keeping with my children. Sometimes a recipe passed down, a book that I’m reading or simply a note about the colour of the sky that morning. Thank you for being here. Let’s begin.
I have just returned from a morning walk along the dark, turbulent river. I was carrying my little daughter in a carrier, and in her eyes I saw a gray sky filled with flock of wild geese slowly startingtheir long journey. The river waves were loud and the fog was coming very low. Almost kissing the surface of the water. The wet sand stuck to our rubber boots very easily, and my little boy gripped my right hand tightly whenever the waves crashed loudly against the river bank. This season of dark yellow, red, grey, dark blue, brown and purple hues. It brings some special feeling around our home. Everything smells like wood stacked in the corner. Everything smells like coffee beans and cinnamon. In every corner some knitted cozy piece rests in its own warmth. From wool jumpers and socks to warm blankets. Everything feels so hygge I suppose. Autumn evenings that feel like lighting candles around the home, holding favorite mug filled with ginger tea, wrapping yourself in an oversized old jumper, raindrops on the window, grey clouds moving across the sky, cinnamon buns in the oven, wind rustling through the tree canopies, fog rolling over the long valley, honey and butter on toasted bread, book opened on the couch, stillness, peace all around.
In October I went for a morning walk almost everyday with my newborn and my toddler. Everywhere around us, leaves brown, dark yellow and auburn. My little boy loves to walk through piles of leaves and just listen to that crisp sound under his feet. We have spent at last two to three hours in that morning walk. Sometimes we are walking along the riverbank. It is my favorite place for walks. During autumn, the river is gloomy, turbulent, but somehow miraculously quiet. The sand is dark, wet and heavy under our feet. Here and there a piece of wood, branches, bird's feathers floating down the river. While the city stretches across the river, we gladly look to our side, where the forest stretches next to river. Forest that is now already wreathed in all those autumn shades and sounds. In the morning and in the early evening, crows fly very loudly and hurriedly in flocks over the moody sky. From tree to tree. From branch to branch. That place with deep and dark water, forest sounds and wet sand somehow always brings peace to my soul. Silence of my mind. Ease of my mind. Presence to the moment. Other mornings we were spending time in the park surrounded by groves of tall trees. My little one and I love to lift our heads and walk along those little stone paths while looking at those treetops. We always laugh and talk about how we feel like we're up in those majestic branches. Flying among them. Is there anything more beautiful than watching a child carefree rustling through the autumn leaves, imagining, talking and building his little happiness?
This time of year is naturally reflective for me. October is my favorite month and somehow it always calls me to create, to walk, to read, to be present more then ever. To reflect on my life, my way of living. I look back on what’s been and consider what’s to come. I am often in my decluttering mode in October too. So this month I decided it is time for creating even simpler home. I decided to clear out all the clothes, donate everything we don't wear and, unfortunately, throw away everything that is irreparable. I have two large shelves in the hallway where I store gift wrapping material, Christmas decorations, books I've read and want to keep, painting and embroidery supplies. Until now, it was all sorted in ordinary cardboard boxes, but this month I decided to order some nice boxes with inscriptions for each content, to carefully inspect, clear and organize everything. So each box got its contents and finally my shelves were organized and even beautiful to look at. Fabrics stored in sewn satchels and stored in one box. Embroidery threads sorted by color. My beeswax candles, pencils, scissors, needles; all arranged in boxes and their tiny compartments. I finally found the perfect wooden box for my painting supplies. It's actually a toolbox, but it seemed perfect for my painting supplies. It really is. Finally everything has its own place. But I'm still waiting for the right time to continue painting my illustrations. For now, that wooden box full of brushes, paints and feathers from our walks will be waiting on the shelf for a while, waiting for the time when I will find moments just for brush strokes and my canvas.
In October I wrote many tales from my life and of my life. My vintage desk with beloved books and wooden box full of painting supplies was my safe space this month. Space for feeling free with my words and reflections. I wrote by the window and with early autumn darkness. With the light of the street lamp penetrating through my linen curtains that swayed from the heat coming out of our radiators. My gaze often drifted outward between those moments of thinking about which word to choose and which word perfectly describes a certain event or the very essence of my story. Outside, I always saw bird shadows sitting on the old roofs. Puddles of rain formed on the lamp-lit paths, and treetops fluttered by the wind. Here and there the wind would howl by my window and it seemed as if autumn had come to whisper something in my ear and then disappeared into that starless night. I wrote many stories on this old desk, they are almost engraved in him. Engraved with stories about love for painting and illustrating, stories about motherhood and finding myself again, about walks and small everyday moments. It was nice to find moments for myself again, at least the short ones while my little ones were sleeping. It was nice to see words being created in this space and time, next to the smoldering candle.
And what else? October was a month filled with many waking hours during long nights. Putting my newborn to sleep, breastfeeding, changing diapers and comforting my two-year-old who was woken up by newborn crying. There were heavy sighs and desire to sleep again, but also wonderful moments when I realized how beautiful it is to be someone's mother. There were endless loads of washing laundry, preparing lunch during the evening when my husband could care for the children, cleaning up the toys at the end of the evening and looking for a moment of silence and peace to gather myself and come back to myself. October was a time when I accepted my body's vulnerability and its need for a long recovery. For long healing. Between rainy mornings, lightning-filled nights and days when the fog lingered longer there were also endless cups of tea, reading books with my newborn in my lap, lots of singing and humming, lots of candles and peaceful music. There were many moments of gratitude, moments of rest, stories in warm bed, moments when I just calmly and gratefully layed next to my little souls, looking at their tiny hands and long eyelashes that fluttered, guided by some strange worlds in their sweet dreams.
Little suggestions:
Story about these postpartum days and motherhood. Read it here.
On seeking and finding simplicity. Read it here.
Also on finding simplicity with preparing for newborn. Here and here.
Read how I found myself again.
A story about my love for painting and illustrating mundane life. Read it here.