Last day of summer, first day of autumn, this is a bitter-sweet time of year for me. Usually (and this year was definitely the epitome) I had lovely plans for the summer which quickly filled up and became unmanageably busy. The two or three things I had longed for usually never happened, and the growing season passed by so fast that half the enjoyment of fresh fruits and veggies was lost in the rush to bake and preserve.

This year, I was overly busy with school, running kids back and forth, and working. I missed the blueberry season entirely. I missed the strawberry and raspberry seasons, too. I managed to can two batches of jam using the plums from our tree. I didn’t cut flowers once, for my own home or anyone else’s. I didn’t even manage to sit outside in the shade and read.

And I had little time to play or otherwise connect with and enjoy my family.

Those are my regrets for the season that is passing. The lack of connection is foremost.

For the upcoming season, I dearly hope that I will not have to ignore my children or my garden overmuch. I hope I will have time to play with the dog, even if it’s only a little time, each day. I hope that I will be able to rest, to dream, to cook and to sew.

I hope to revel in savory dishes, sipping hot cider as I study.

As we wend our way toward the thinning veil between this world and the next, I hope that I will honor my ancestors and inspire my descendants with brave, gracious and loving acts.

The waning light sees me contemplating whether I use it well — do I make the most of my available time?

Future generations will know.