I wrote about noticing the shift to fall in my post on Tuesday, but I kind of lied to y’all. I actually didn’t notice it at all—Steve did. I haven’t mentioned much about him on any of my platforms, but he’s my partner and just the best guy a guy could have (insert gooey mush here). We’ve been together for over 13 years, and he still surprises me and makes me think every day. I love seeing the world through his eyes because he notices things so differently from me. Fun fact: I only recently found out that he has a type of synesthesia that lets him see sound as patterns. I was like, how have I been with you for over a decade and you’re just NOW sharing this with me?! But one of his favorite things to do in the morning is to go outside and listen to (or I guess see) the songs of the birds. I came out one morning, and he says, “Look, it’s fall,” and points out how the pattern of the shadows had changed. Now I can’t help but see it everywhere.

And it’s true, the first sign of fall around here is that shift in light. Everything else is brown, struggling in the heat. Leaves are falling because they are stressed. I can barely stand to be outside past 10 AM because the heat becomes unbearable. But it’s still fall.

For a long time, I tried to follow the modern wheel of the year. I purchased a print of it on Etsy, and it depicts this time of year with lovely fall scenes, including apples, colorful leaves, and blackberries. It’s some future nostalgia of a season that has never truly existed anywhere I’ve lived—especially Texas.

It wasn’t until I read Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden that things started to click. In her book, she talks about growing up and moving all over the country, and how every move made things that should have felt familiar strange all over again. She says, “I’ve lived where it was hot when it should be cold; how does this fit in Yule?”

She recommends stopping treating the calendar as the authority and starting to treat your own lived experience as the authority of the year you follow. The sentiment felt so obvious when I read it, but it often gets lost amongst the countless people on the internet telling you how you’re supposed to live your life.

So the simple practice for the month of September is to just pay attention. Go outside and find something that lets you know the season is shifting. Don’t rely on the calendar alone or the pumpkin displays at any retailer that appeared during the 4th of July. Maybe it’s the angle of light for you too, or maybe you actually notice a temperature change and the falling of the leaves (if so, I’m only slightly jealous).

And when you notice it, write it down! And then, next year, go back and read what you wrote and see if it’s still aligned with where you are. And while you’re at it, write down when you celebrate a holiday or event. Over time, you’ll start to form your own wheel too. It’s a much better way of having things to look forward to than the hope of something that will never show up this month.

I have this book on Plant Magick that I often refer to when reading about and crafting my monthly magick posts. For September, it mentioned something called “blackberry summer,” which it described as warm weather that shows up at the end of September. I had heard a version of this in the South, but I didn’t remember it being in September. So I looked it up in the Dictionary of American Regional English, which defined it as a COLD spell in late spring. Completely opposite of what one book had confidently told me.

So I cut it out of the post. But I share this as an example of something confidently wrong. Not only can it happen with AI, but it can also happen with shitty writers and even your yearly calendar. I’m not trying to make you paranoid about information; I’m just sharing it as a reminder to keep learning and growing on your own, and not to offload that to any of the aforementioned methods. I rarely take the first word of anything unless there’s already an established line of trust.

I already explained the theme I’m working with this month in Tuesday’s post. If you haven’t seen it, what I’m about to say next might make no sense.

I’m extremely good at being a cauldron. My mind likes to marinate in things. It’s not just decisions I’m avoiding, but it’s also things I’m curious or excited about. I can get an idea and sit on it for months without taking action, yet still be excited about it. I’m not good at making the decision or taking the first actual step—the blade.

And the folks I know who’re good at being the blade, they’re not good at the marinating part. They’re usually very decisive and very quick. They tend to move fast and break things, wondering how to fix it or if the cut was worth it much later on. So, basically, neither of us gets it right currently.

August was an entire month of being in my feelings and led me to reevaluate some things and some ones that I wasn’t prepared to. I’m going to write about those properly next week rather than squeeze it into this overview. Until then…

xo,
Chad

Below are a few books I’m leaning into for this month’s posts.

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