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September has always been a transition month for me, more so even than January. The school year begins and the mornings and nights have begun to chill. As I write this I’m snuggled up in my fleece, when just a month ago that would have been stifling.. There is a sense of renewal in these last weeks of summer, the bounty of the harvest. We begin to harvest our root vegetables and freeze pesto, and tomato sauce. Juicy berries can still be plucked and turned into jams and frozen for winter porridge. There are also those delicious summer experiences to savor and hold onto. Where have we traveled, who have we sat around fires and grills with enjoying laughs and great talks? Summer is a season of experience, a time to fill our baskets, our hearts, our cellars and our memories with sustenance and joy.
With this savoring I sometimes feel a tingle of dread. Indeed the savoring is a practice that I’ve worked carefully to cultivate in efforts to ward off the dread. So many of us begin to worry on a subconscious level how we will survive when the cold sets in. To offer some perspective, in the days before stores it was so crucial that our food was put up for the coming winter. With a blanket of snow our agrarian forebearers were unable to grow food and our hunter/gatherer ancestors would have to plan migration or semi-hibernation to make it through the winters safely. Great festivals and gatherings happened during the summer months to fill people’s need for connection and celebration when travel was still possible. So on a cellular level that tingle makes a whole lot of sense.
Growing and gathering food and medicine has given me a supreme gift beyond the obvious. I’m more connected to the seasons that I’ve ever been before. The weeds have taken over the garden with only the grandiose, towering sunflowers to distract me from their tenacity and abundance. I crouch below gathering purslane, dandelion and dayflower while watching the birds munch the seeds of the sunflowers above me. There is a busyness I can enjoy knowing that soon the days will be cool and I can mulch and cover crop, getting the garden ready for the fertile restfulness of winter. Thoughts of the next growing season are never too far away.
I’m grateful for this re-frame. A way to honor the end summer, which I’ve often wished could last forever and to consciously prepare for the chillier days ahead. In preparation I begin to call on some important herbs to help my body, mind and spirit be resilient through times of change. Aptly named, many of the herbs I work with at this time are called adaptogens. Adaptogens are a large class of herbs and some of them support our nervous systems or adrenals while others are wonderful for our immune systems. I promise that I’ll get more into the details of adaptogens in a future blog but for today I’d like to share a recipe with you….something to curl up with on these cool mornings and evenings. This is a drink with two amazing adaptogens in it. Reishi mushroom, offering powerful immune support and ashwagandha, traditionally used to soothe and restore frayed nerves and give some extra emotional cushion. It’s called Golden Harvest Milk, my version of the traditional Golden Milk.
Golden Harvest Milk
Warm up 8 ounces of milk of your choice in a saucepan at low heat. You will whisk in the following ingredients until it is frothy, warm and well blended:
1 tsp coconut oil or ghee (optional)
1 tsp honey (or more to taste)
1 tsp ashwagandha powder
1 tsp reishi mushroom powder
¼ tsp ginger
¼ tsp turmeric
¼ tsp cinnamon
Wrap your hands around this mug of deliciousness and prepare to feel thoroughly warmed and nourished.
With Love,
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