Dear Curiosity Journal,

And just like that, I’m in a hoodie and stocking cap for the evening free graze. There’s a chill in the air as I release the flock for their nightly walkabout. I meditate on the modification of my seasonal mood as the sheep munch on a few choice greens. No doubt the cooler weather is gladly welcomed by my wooly companions, who have been panting through the summer stupor, and I tend to agree with the animals on this one. The cloudy cover feels like a shelter from an acute glare. There is an ease that comes with the lower temperatures and lesser light, a release of the intensity which allows the muscles of the face to relax a bit. Farming causes me to feel these subtle shifts in the cycles in ways I didn’t pay attention to before. The change in the air means more than just putting on another layer to me now. Indeed, hinging my identity to the land and my livelihood to the season has added an entire stratum to my life that I didn’t know I needed, a longing I couldn’t locate in my twenties, but is nestled in my very nucleus today – a curious metamorphosis in the late summer of life.