There’s a tumble of wood outside our front porch—two cords of seasoned ash ready to be stacked. It’s a project, sure, but I actually kind of enjoy racking up a solid pile of firewood, and have done my share of heavy log lifting each year since we’ve been in Bovina, including when I was pregnant with Joel. Recently we took our annual crack at the task, but found it somewhat complicated with a 14-month-old throwing spectacular tiny fits whenever we did anything besides pay him his due attention. After maybe an hour, we declared we’d made a dent (a laughable conclusion) and let it be what it is. And so, there the load will sit while we chip away at it in between slow-cooked dinners and back-to-back family visits.
That’s kind of how everything is right now (a lot of pots bubbling over, projects half-finished, ideas filling up lists), and it makes me realize what’s also laughable is the same old tired line I tell myself every time: “If I can just make it through *this* busy bit, the chaos will surely subside.” Of course that never happens: the chores and responsibilities roll in along with the seasons, and change is life’s only constant.
It’s no coincidence that we just celebrated the fall equinox as I write this. Ferns are tinged golden orange, crab apples clutter the shoulder of County Route 6, and cool, wet mornings in the valley are shrouded in a creeping mist. It’s a shift that invites us to slow down, turn inward, and, in my case, let some of the piles just sit. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t increase my Substack cadence while I’m also finishing a short story and building a website. That I don’t test out new recipes or DIY a Halloween costume or bring Joel to the library every week when I’m also trying to accomplish something creative (and, let’s face it, sometimes to just make it through the day). The truth is, no matter the season, my attention will always be divided—I’ll tackle some of that and then move on to five minutes of this—and for now, that’s just the kind of progress I have to be okay with. I may not be charting a straight line to “success” (whatever that is) or self-fulfillment. But forward is still movement.
That being said, if you’re anything like me, don’t forget: you also have permission to do less.
Anyway, this is my long-winded way of admitting today’s missive is a bit scattered. All I could really muster was a humble collection of stuff on my mind as autumn rushes in—things I’d like to try, things that caught my eye, and other frivolous diversions. Rather than letting them occupy what precious little headspace I have left, I’m plopping them here in case you might enjoy them. Now I can feel satisfied I did something with all of this [gestures], and go ahead and get back to stacking.
And so, without further ado, some freshly picked fall-ish things from me to you:
1. Thanks in no small part to Gregg, I’ve cultivated an appreciation for the horror genre that—much like any good killer reveal—I never saw coming. There have been lots of releases leading up to spooky season that have piqued my interest (Cuckoo, The Substance, Longlegs) but with Nonna and Opa visiting this past week we opted instead to screen something horror-adjacent: the original Beetlejuice. I had actually never watched it from beginning to end (gasp!), but now that I have, my key takeaways are: 1) sexual harassment—so hilarious! (major side-eye), and 2) the true hero of the film is obviously Harry Belafonte. Anyone seen Beetlejuice Beetlejuice yet? What did you think?
2. If you’ve ever been over to my place, you know I have a lot of dead flowers plopped around the house in various vases. I love a dried bouquet, but lately I’m craving a low-maintenance arrangement with a little more oomph, shall we say? Something to keep my spirits up as the leaves come down—like maybe a vibrant floral print? Here are a few I thought might help brighten a dreary day:
3. Okay, so I refuse to bust out the winter layers until we’ve had a proper burn in the fireplace, but I have to admit: this past week I began to daydream about wrapping myself in a soft, gigantic knit. I’ll be waiting patiently for a babaà sale before I can even look at the slouchy wool sweater on the left, but I’m also curious to try Quince as an affordable, ethically-made alternative. Just this week, their Mongolian cashmere crewneck made Wirecutter’s list. Anyone have opinions? I’m looking for warm, natural fibers, ideally without the itch.
4. Spotted on a walk with Kola: red efts hunting for breakfast in the detritus. Can you find all three?
5. Y’all, I can’t quit daydreaming about socks. Most recently I’ve had my eye on a couple of sets from Bombas (they’re so comfy, and for every pair purchased they donate another to folks in need) but I can’t quite justify more socks at the moment. Am I … a sockaholic?
6. In this house, comfort food is a love language. (What can I say? We take our macaroni seriously.) As proud as I am of my “Jagu sauce,” as Gregg calls it, I’ve been trying to mix it up by picking marinara-less recipes, and this miso mushroom and leek pasta is next on the list to hit my skillet.
7. Speaking of pasta, for Halloween last year we dressed Joel as rigatoni, because that’s what we called him while he was still a wiggly noodle in my womb. Not sure it’s possible to improve upon this (or if I even have the energy to try to), but I’ve been filing costume ideas away for the lil’ dude just in case.
Should we do one of these? Something else? Nothing? Currently accepting strokes of genius or insanity.
A banana (because that’s all he eats)
A bulldozer (because that’s what he does)
Kola (because that’s who he loves most)
A gremlin (because that’s what he is)
Corn (because … corn?)
8. Shoutout to these RubyMac apples from Maplewood Farm. Snappy, tart, and bloody delicious.
9. On a serious note, the southeastern US is experiencing catastrophic flooding due to Hurricane Helene. This doc contains links to a number of mutual aid and disaster recovery resources throughout Appalachia—if you are in a position to offer assistance of any kind, please consider doing so today. Also, I highly recommend reading this post from The Slow Factory (h/t to Auntie Meg) for a sobering dose of perspective on the links between natural disasters, the military industrial complex, and climate change.
Update: Special thanks to Nonna and Opa for watching the little booger this past weekend so we could put an actual dent in the log pile. We love you.