Read by Matilda Longbottom

There’s something special about gardening in September. Maybe it’s the gentler sunlight or the way the air smells just the tiniest bit like crisp apples and change. It’s not quite Summer anymore, but it’s not Fall just yet either—September is that lovely in-between where everything in the garden seems to take a deep, contented breath.

Most mornings, I head outside with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pair of clippers in the other. My dogs follow along, nose to the ground like they are on an important mission. (Spoiler alert: it’s usually to find a good stick that they then tussle over.) The garden is quieter now—fewer buzzing bees, less frantic growth—but it hums with a slower kind of magic.

The tomatoes are still ripening, though they’re not quite as eager as they were in July. I find myself thanking each one as I pluck it from the vine. “Good job, little buddy,” I say, holding a perfectly red cherry tomato in my palm. My neighbors probably think I’m odd, but I like to think the plants appreciate the encouragement.

The zinnias, on the other hand, are still putting on a show like it’s their grand finale. Bright pinks and oranges dance in the breeze, utterly unbothered by the cooler nights. I always plant more than I need, just so I can gather handfuls to give away. I leave little jars on porches, often with a plate of cookies now that it is cool enough to want to bake again.

This time of year, my garden becomes a little more about reflection than hustle. I deadhead flowers with less urgency, pull weeds more slowly, and take longer breaks on the garden bench. Sometimes I bring a book but end up just watching the squirrels make dramatic leaps between branches. They’re clearly preparing for something. I’m mostly just soaking it all in.

That’s what September is for me — a time to truly soak it all in. The bustling energy of Summer is gently ebbing, leaving behind a peaceful calm before the whirlwind of the holiday season arrives. It’s a precious pause, a soft in-between where I can reflect on all the joy and sunshine that filled the past months. I find myself smiling over memories of long, carefree days spent outdoors, the laughter, the adventures, and the simple pleasure of feeling the sun on my skin. At the same time, there’s a sweet anticipation growing in my heart for the cozy season ahead — for the gatherings with loved ones, the shared meals, and the quiet, comforting moments that come with cooler days. September, to me, is a time to be present, to savor both the memories that Summer gave me and the promise of warm family moments yet to come.

Before I go back inside, I gather what the garden has offered—some squash, a few peppers, and enough herbs to make my kitchen smell like a dream. September reminds me to savor the season, to notice the golden light, the soft rustle of leaves, and the way the earth begins to whisper instead of shout.

It’s not the wild joy of Spring or the bursting abundance of mid-Summer, but gardening in September is like sitting down with an old friend and simply enjoying each other’s company. Quiet, comforting, and full of warmth.

And honestly? It might just be my favorite kind of gardening. ❖