There comes a point every September when summer hasn’t quite left us, but autumn has begun making itself known.
The afternoons are still warm enough to sit outside, the garden is still filled with colour, and the birds certainly haven’t gone anywhere. Yet the light is changing. The evenings arrive a little sooner, there’s a coolness in the air, and suddenly the throw blankets have found their way back onto my lounge chair.
“Summer is fading, yet autumn is not yet fully born. The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting cooler, and the light is changing.”
— Laura Jaworski
That feels very much like September in the Kootenays.
A Cooler Kind of Garden Afternoon
Late afternoon is still one of my favourite times to sit outside.
Lately, though, I’ve needed a little help staying there.
Ivor has kindly been starting the small tabletop propane heater for me, and it now sits beside my chair giving off just enough warmth to stretch those outdoor afternoons a little longer. I tuck a throw around myself, pour a small glass of wine, and settle in to watch whatever might be happening in the garden.
Of course, before I sit down, there is one important task.
Birdseed topped up.
Peanuts replenished.
And don’t they know it. 😉
There seems to be very little delay between my arrival with the peanuts and the birds discovering that the afternoon buffet is open.
This week, two Steller’s Jays have joined the regular visitors.
From their behaviour, they appear to be an adult and a youngster—and the younger one is learning remarkably quickly.
It has already discovered that landing on the deck railing beside me and having a little “chat” can be surprisingly rewarding.
Naturally, I toss a peanut onto the deck in front of my chair.
Down it flies.
Peanut collected.
Lesson learned.
I suspect I’m being very well trained.
There is something especially delightful about watching a young bird figure out these small routines. At first there is hesitation. Then curiosity. And before long, complete confidence.
It is one of those ordinary little garden moments that somehow becomes memorable.
September in the Studio
That same feeling of transition has been following me indoors.
During August I shared Meet Eight Backyard Birds of the Kootenays, introducing some of the familiar birds that visit our garden and surrounding neighbourhood.
The project was never really intended to stop there.
Several of those birds have continued appearing on my drawing table, and I’ve been slowly working on new sketches and ideas for what they might eventually become.
At the moment, five of the Backyard Birds are taking shape alongside a new fall wreath illustration.
Some pieces are further along than others.
Some may change entirely.
And that is part of the pleasure of it.
I’m learning to let these illustrations develop without feeling that every sketch needs to become a finished piece—or that I need to know exactly where it is going before I begin.
There is a wonderful thought from garden writer Elizabeth Lawrence that a garden is never really finished; it is always unfolding and always a work in progress.
I think creative work is much the same.
One sketch leads to another.
A flower used on one card finds its way into a wreath.
A bird seen outside the studio window becomes the beginning of another idea.
And sometimes the best thing we can do is simply keep following the thread.
That Lovely In-Between Season
September may be one of my favourite months for exactly that reason.
It doesn’t demand that summer disappear overnight.
The flowers can still bloom.
The sun can still feel warm.
A glass of wine can still be enjoyed on the deck.
But now there might also be a blanket tucked around your knees and a little heater glowing beside you.
The garden is beginning to change its palette. The birds seem busier. The light is softer.
And somewhere between summer and autumn, another season of ideas is quietly beginning too.
For now, I’ll keep the peanuts topped up, the throw blanket close at hand, and a sketchbook waiting in the studio.
There is still plenty to notice.
And plenty yet to unfold.
Warmly,
Laura
Laura’s Garden Studio
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