The kale doesn’t care about our five-year plan. Neither do the chickens.
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SEPTEMBER 25, 2026
The look he gives you when you tell him he has B.E.E. (Big Equinox Energy)
Spooky Season
I love this time of year - where flannels, evening bonfires, and postseason baseball all live. Where we light candles, romanticize darkness, and get a little more comfortable with our witchiness. Where we are invited to pause before we move into the rhythm of Fall.
As we begin to flip beds to make room for a fall planting of garlic, I feel so grateful for all that grew. The voluptuous Valencia tomatoes, the vibrant marigolds, the vigorously regenerating kale that only grew stronger the more it was picked.
There is something satisfying about looking back at a season while you are still standing in it. So, before we tuck the garden away and start talking about what comes next, here is a little evidence of what we grew.
One of our baby chick's first day in the brooder.
They grow up so fast.
And now they have discovered freedom. (...And rebellion)
The Sunflower: She had a good summer.
The Zinnia: Everyone wanted a piece of her this year.
The Dahlia: Okay, show-off.
The Table: Full of summer.
And Kale? She's doing great, thanks for asking.
Did I mention tomatoes?
Don't Blame Persephone
I have a confession: I used to be horribly afraid of the dark. Not as a child. But as an adult. Into my twenties.
If I had to get out of bed during the night to use the bathroom, I’d do a running leap to get back under the protection of the covers. Who knew what might reach out and grab my ankle? In fact, I still sleep with a wooden baseball bat near my bedside table.
I’ve spent a lot of years thinking the dark was where bad things happened.
Turns out, the Greeks had a different idea…
Once upon a time, a young girl named Persephone was picking flowers in a field.
When suddenly - the earth cracked open.
Hades, God of the Underworld, came roaring from below and kidnapped Persephone to become his queen.
Persephone’s mother, Demeter - Goddess of the Harvest - was devastated. She searched everywhere for her daughter. She was so consumed by grief that she stopped tending to the earth.
The crops died.
The flowers disappeared.
The world went cold.
Eventually, Zeus - King of the Gods - stepped in and told Hades to return Persephone.
Except for one little problem.
While in the Underworld, Hades gave Persephone a pomegranate.
She ate the seeds.
And, like everyone knows, once you eat food from the Underworld, you can never fully leave.
So the gods struck a deal.
Persephone would return to her mother… but only for part of the year.
In the spring, Persephone returns home.
Demeter rejoices.
The birds return.
The flowers bloom.
The earth awakens.
In the fall, Persephone lives in the Underworld.
Demeter grieves.
The leaves drop.
The fields go quiet.
The earth sleeps.
And every year, as the light begins to disappear, we tell the story of why the seasons change again.
Persephone is usually remembered as the innocent girl picking flowers who got dragged into the darkness.
And sure, that happened.
But eventually, Persephone became the Queen of the Underworld.
She knew the world above and the world below.
She could be the girl with flowers in her hands and the woman who ruled over death.
I always liked that part.
Because, sometimes, I feel a little bit like Persephone.
Because nothing in nature - and nothing in us - is meant to stay in bloom forever.
We wax.
We wane.
We bloom.
We rest.
We change.
We go dark.
And maybe going dark isn't the opposite of blooming.
Maybe it's part of it.
I used to be afraid of the dark.
Now, I sleep with the windows open.
And invite it in.
Stay spooky, stay grounded, eat some tomatoes. (But watch out for pomegranates...)
And to my witches - sending you love. See you in the dark.
