The season of Fading Heat, which straddles the end of August and the beginning of September, is a unique time in North America. It is, perhaps, the one time of year when there is an innate understanding of, simultaneously, “don’t bother me” coupled with an innate urge to get your house in order. After all, looming September is when many of us get back to business, with the first half of the month full of excitement as we return to structured activities after the relative freedom of summer.

Yes, Fading Heat seems to be when everyone collectively agrees that no work is really going to get done, is it? Especially if you have to coordinate with others…And that freedom, that permission of giving up, of striving, of doing or achieving — that is what this glorious season feels like.

The last two weeks of August seem like a big, contented, exhausted sigh of relief. We have made it through the summer and all its plans. Now, we sneak in as many BBQs, corn, and peaches as we can while the light holds. There is a wistfulness to Fading Heat, for though autumn has officially arrived by the lunisolar calendar’s reckoning, now is the time when we are truly forced to say goodbye to those carefree dog days — but not before one last, sweet embrace.

This season also gives us more space to start planning and look forward to autumn and all its joys. The pumpkins and fall decor don’t seem quite so out of place. For myself, Fading Heat marks the deadline to make my end-of-summer baked peach dessert. Some years it is a pie. Other years it is a cobbler. Either way, by the time September arrives in earnest, peach season will be gone.

Fading Heat is that peach season. That quiet, unhurried joy in both preparation and relaxation. It is a time to simply “be.”

Autumn is in our thoughts, though summer remains in our hearts. August 7th marks the start of a journey through one of our four major seasons: the small season, the Beginning of Autumn. Despite the sun, despite the heat, autumn has arrived. If you look closely, the signs reveal themselves. Here are a few examples I have found that autumn has indeed arrived in my neck of the woods:

This desire to light a candle at 10:00 am on a sunny July morning gave me pause. Why did I want to light a candle? What had changed in me? What had changed around me?

At this time of year, the topic of conversation is the heat! Either it is talking about how the heat is unbearable, or how the heat has been unbearable.

Even in our electric age of light and neon, the glow and crackle of a fire maintain their magic. Fire has, since childhood, been something out of the ordinary; something a little sacred, something a little profound. Firelight reminds you of the darkness we humans used to live in and, indeed, how we were once more comfortable with the shadows. Fires of long ago.

It has truly been two weeks of growth and transformation. There’s no stopping nature now as we dive joyfully into summer.

We welcome the expansive season. A time of clarity: the light glows, sparkles, laughs. The scenery gurgles and chirps, green tendrils pushing toward the sun. Everywhere, delicate transparency captures the crystalline glow, cradling it softer than a torch.

Tomatoes ripening on the vine symbolize all which is good of the summer season. Tomatoes ripening on the vine, catching the light of the summer sun, shining like a beacon against the cement shadows of New York City symbolize a gardener who has found their joy. Gardening, no matter the location, no matter the space. And, their joy becomes my joy.

Despite my ups and downs in the tree pits, every year I learn a new lesson. Last year's lesson? Plant drought-resistant seeds. This year's lesson? Don't be lazy and be sure to put up lots of signage.