Clouds diffused the late morning sunlight as we pulled into the Dade County Library parking lot Friday morning, casting the autumn colors in stark relief against the steely grays of sky and asphalt. A stiff breeze out of the northeast stirred the scattered leaves and caused us to wrap our flannels and sweatshirts around us a bit tighter as we hurried inside — Grace, our oldest two nieces, and I. After a long busy summer and hectic early autumn, we sisters made time to actually go to the library, picking up some books we might have time to read now that the weather is finally cooling. I hadn’t been to the library with my nieces in years, so I enjoyed their enthusiasm as we wandered around the Christian and young adult fiction sections. Grace and I strolled down memory lane, recommending favorites we had as young teens. We left the library with arms and hearts full, planning to make a similar excursion again soon.
In the natural rhythms and routines of life, there is something particularly autumnal about wandering through a library. I think it’s because, even as a kid, I remember the shift from outdoor activities to indoor as the temperatures changed and light faded. Fall is always a time of return to those more winterish hobbies, be they reading, crocheting, or extra baking. So, as we drove home on Friday, I felt a bit of nostalgic giddiness as I soaked in the season. We came home to a bunkhouse bedecked with pumpkins and faces full of smiles. We had finally decorated this week, adding a tangible layer of festivity to the normalcy of life. I got busy making a pot of Cuban-style black beans and rice, a family favorite we discovered during a homeschooling unit study decades ago. It works especially well on cold evenings — which Friday promised. My sisters and nieces hurried outside, bundling up against the wind to harvest everything left in the garden, preparing for the possible frost Saturday morning. I helped wash and prep veggies for storage while I simmered beans on the stove, especially thankful for the warm house and pumpkin spice coffee.
It had been a long week, with our dogs making life particularly difficult. As I mentioned in our last update, all three of our females are going through their heat cycles, so we’ve had a lot of noisy dogs and many sleepless nights. One female is too old to fix, and the others we plan to breed someday. It’s enough to make us all rethink our life choices to even have dogs — though of course we love them all dearly. This too shall pass, but we are all tired.
Along with dealing with our dogs, it was another week of cleaning and organizing for the changing seasons. Grace and I put our storm shelter back together on Monday, carefully setting up our benches and organizing pantry totes. Technically, the paint on the floor is still curing, so we elevated our totes up on the benches for now. We’d had everything usually stored in the shelter scattered around the homestead — crammed into the bunkhouse, office building, several vehicles, and in the yard under tarps. It felt good to put things back where they belong before the rain rolled in.
We had two full days of rain, which was so needed. We worked indoors, digging out totes of warmer clothes and fall decor. It’s always a big project to sort through clothes and pack away the summer items. We also did a bunch of cooking for the week. By the time the rain let up on Friday, we were all happy to get out of the house — even though it was cold.
Bonnie-Jean and Grace did a good job with our final harvest, bringing in green tomatoes, peppers, and ornamental pumpkins. They brought in several bunches of herbs — parsley, thyme, lemon balm, and a basket of lavender. The lavender belongs to our niece Eilley, who started it in her little aquaponics set earlier in the year. We plan to use most of the herbs right away, but we hung the lavender from the quilt frame in the living room. It looks festive and smells delightful. The girls also brought in bouquets of flowers that will soon wilt, either from this first patchy frost or from another soon.
We finished the week with a golden October Saturday — the sort that feels absolutely perfect. For those with a sweet tooth, the day started with pancakes and venison sausage as we waited for it to warm up outside. Gold and orange leaves shimmered in the mild breeze while we busied ourselves with various tasks. Several family members set up a little shooting range as a warm-up for deer season — first the youth portion next week, then the adult not long after.
My sisters, nieces, and I baked Banbury tarts in preparation for the Feast of St. Lukes’, which we celebrate today. The tart is traditional for the feast day in England, which is a nod to our plentiful British heritage. Last year we made Banbury cakes, which were just lovely, but this was a fun and slightly more historic variation. We cheated and used store-bought pie crust, which made the assembly rather easy. The raisin filling is perfect for fall — it’s easy to see why this tart became associated with the Feast of St. Luke’s.
While we worked, we sipped mulled tea — the first time we made it this year. It’s a simple pleasure we’ve enjoyed for so many autumns, bringing together black tea, citrus, cinnamon, and cloves. It wasn’t as productive of a week as I would have wished. The homestead to-do list is as long as ever. Still, we were faithful with our days, making what progress we could. The house is a little cleaner. We are more ready for cold weather. And we had so many sweet moments to be thankful for. It takes discipline and intentionality to remember the good sometimes — to shift the focus from what hasn’t gotten done to what has. Maybe we didn’t get started on our shelves. Maybe we still need to organize our tools. But we did make it to the library this week. We did make mulled tea. We smiled while shaping Banbury tarts. We took a couple walks outside. We sought God in our daily routines. And we enjoyed each other. Sometimes — maybe most times — those things can be enough.
