Equinox Rains

 

 

               The Equinox Rains came through on Friday night, shifting the seasons once again. Inside, the changes had already begun; outside, we spent the afternoon preparing.

                When I came home on Friday afternoon, after working with students in the school garden to lay down some cover crop, I found Mark up in the fig tree, picking ripe fruit. “I thought we could get one more round in the dryer,” he called down. “You know, before the rain creates Fig Bombs.” I agreed and wandered into the back yard to finish picking the tomatoes, tuck away the electric lamp, and pull the potted plants out to where they would catch the rain when it fell. Mark finished his compost sifting project and moved his favorite chair inside. We tucked the rabbit in early with a bag of baby carrots I pulled out of the school trash can and went inside. Let it rain.

                That evening, I shifted the mantle and table decorations from Lammastime—or the early harvest—to the Fall Equinox. Every six weeks, the decorations evolve. I will change the plates, the candles and holders, the fabrics that sit under the lamp on the kitchen table to reflect the seasons. Right now, the mantle is green and gold and orange with my mother’s old glass pumpkin and the orange candle holders. Dried foliage from the coast and two brown and green plates from the 1940s, plus the turkey butterdish. Late Harvest.

                The clouds were moving in fast over the moon when we went to bed, chased by the wind. Just before I fell asleep I thought “wind in the corn.” An hour or so later, the rains came in a rush like the high tide, smelling of salt water and wet forest and far clear spaces. Rain. Rain like the sea. Rain like a blessing. Rain to shift the seasons, once again, from summer to fall, right on schedule.