Here we are as summer wanes. Last September I wrote about this being a month of transitions. And as seasonal rhythms remind us — with their reassuring and predictable patterns — this theme has emerged again.
Transition times are an opportunity to honor and cherish the gifts of the passing season as we anticipate the graces to come. Paging back through my journal, I note the gifts of summer—the first sighting of fireflies, the increased activity of Eastern Cottontails, and the pollinators in full force, especially on the mountain mint and bee balm. I also noted how summer calls my spirit both to play and deep rest.
These were documented in what I call a list of “noticings.” My personality by nature longs for lists—metaphorical containers that hold “to dos,” groceries to be purchased, homeschool tasks, and books to check out from the library. These practical lists help me to feel not only organized but rooted. I feel sort of lost without them.
The most nourishing type of list for me, though, is one that records the moments that stand out in both my inner and outer landscapes. These “glimmers” are simple moments of joy and peace that I encounter in the small wonders around (and within) me. My journal is filled with these. When I cannot muster the creative energy or time to write proper prose, I start with a list.
This practice stirs my creativity and deepens my appreciation for the glimmers in day-to-day life. My lists of “noticings” have become a form of meditation and contemplative practice. They are collections of observations, wonder, and insights that I can return to again and again. It is a gift to page back through my journals and be reminded of glimmers from previous seasons and years.
My most recent list includes:
~ The hummingbird has been spending more time at the feeder preparing for fall migration.
~ Subtle yellow hues on the elm tree
~ Waning daylight
~ Birds still molting (Carolina wren is missing a tail feather)
~ Goldenrod: a symbol of the seasonal transition as it leans into autumn, offering its beauty and sustenance. A bridge between seasons. A keystone species.
~ I am slowly coming out of a fallow creative season. A necessary time of waiting and listening to hear what rises and unfolds.
These lists have no rules; there are no “to do’s.” They are unassuming. They are whatever is needed in the moment.
When woven together, these life-giving lists tell a story of how my inner and outer landscapes intertwine. They become more than the sum of their parts—they become a form of wholeness.
So when your well fills dry or you are longing for a sacred pause, consider making a list of “noticings.” Over time you may notice patterns or themes emerge. You will also become more in tune with subtle shifts in the seasons—and how those shifts are reflected within you.
Goldenrod
Scientific name: Solidago
(Latin for solidus, “to make whole”)
