The leaves are changing colors in Beacon, and Main Street is filled with droves of leaf peepers on the weekends. This time of year always feels bittersweet. There’s an excitement that comes with the cooler evenings and the return of sweaters from hiding, but there’s also a quiet sadness that settles into my daily routine in the garden. It no longer needs me in quite the same way, and I can feel it beginning to slow down, preparing for its long rest until next year.

As we transition into this season, I find myself settling for more evening baths, with our new Botanical Blend Bath Soak becoming my favorite companion. Inspired by the garden, it offers a way to carry a little piece of it with me into the winter months. I light candles more often and sit quietly in the darkness of the early morning, writing before my daughter wakes. It’s in these quieter moments that I give myself space to wonder what this next season might ask of us, what it might teach us, and how it might shift us as living, feeling, intuitive beings.

We’re always designing six to twelve months into the future, which means my creative brain is somewhere between April and September 2027. But my physical body is very much rooted in the present, navigating a season of personal change, shifting rhythms, and the practice of quiet inner confidence. I haven't found my rhythm quite yet. 

I’m learning to flow like water through the transitions and heartbreaks that come with being human, to soften where I can, to trust what I cannot yet see, and to let the changing seasons remind me that nothing stays the same forever. Perhaps there is something to be found in that surrender, in allowing ourselves to change alongside the world around us, rather than trying to hold on to what was.

Wishing you all the strength to be present and the permission to soften into the long rest until spring if that is what you need, just like the garden. I will see you there. 

-Sierra