by Karen Shughart
I had forgotten how much I love the month of September. August, with it’s hazy days and balmy nights, fades slowly to Labor Day and then almost instantly a switch is flipped. Although meteorological autumn doesn’t start until later in the month, it still feels like fall, with coolness in the air and daylight that slowly grows shorter. Magically, the sky clears to a vivid blue, the monarch butterflies swarm through our village on their journey to Mexico, and most days are bright, with a warming sun that at sunset slowly descends into the horizon leaving a shimmering path of gold on the lake; then the nights turn cool.
Starting at dusk we begin to hear the late summer song of cicadas, katydids and crickets. The raucous chorus of birds that announced the breaking of dawn in early summer seems more subdued now, with only occasional chirps, tweets or coos. It’s as if they, too, know it’s time to start turning inward as winter approaches. The leaves start to change, you can see it first on the tips of the maples, and the sumacs turn bright red.
September is a transitional month. The level of activity changes from frantic, pack-in-as- much-as-you-can before the weather changes, to more measured and subdued as the children return to school. it’s quiet now here in our village. On our morning walks, the sound of waves gently hitting the beach lull us into a calmness that we feel for the first time in months. And for some reason, perhaps air currents or the cooling of the water, the lake gives off a fragrant, clean, earthy scent, a little like the ocean but without the salty brine. Few boats can be seen on the bay during the week, boaters descend upon our village now mostly on weekends.
I love the month for its bounty. Our farmstands and CSAs offer up a selection of gorgeously hued vegetables and fruits that remind me of precious stones adorning a necklace. The flowers, earlier in pastel hues, now bloom in deeper shades of orange, rust, red, purple and yellow. My cooking changes, too. Cold soup like gazpacho, a lunch staple in our refrigerator during warmer months, is replaced with thick tomato soup made from luscious, ripe tomatoes; chicken with farmstand vegetables; butternut squash, using the last of the herbs growing in pots on our deck. In summer I create desserts using berries and stone fruits: a berry or peach pie, a cobbler or compote garnished with mint from my garden and perhaps a drizzle of local honey. This month, I replace the summer treats with apple pies and crisps, moist cakes and bread. As I see it, when the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of September come together, they miraculously form a series of notes that create a breathtakingly beautiful September melody.
