Ember Season: An Invitation to Quiet Togetherness

Finding Stillness and Warmth as Autumn Drifts Toward Winter

There’s something quietly sacred about the arrival of autumn and the slow drift toward winter. As the leaves turn to embers and drift down in a final, languid dance, a kind of permission settles over us. We are allowed, at last, to slow down, to fold ourselves into the early twilight and let go of the world’s insistent speed.

In these cooler months, there is a rhythm—a ritual, almost—that feels as old as the earth itself. We draw close to family, to friends, to those who know us beyond words. It’s in the crackling warmth of a fire, the delicate steam rising from a cup of tea or cocoa, and the way time seems to stretch out like an invitation. Small moments, once overshadowed by the noise of summer’s rush, become luminous.

I think there's something primal in it, a reminder from the world that even nature takes a rest. The trees shed what they no longer need. The animals burrow into the earth. And we, too, are invited to settle, to turn inward, and to share these hours with the ones we love—if only to sit in silence, to breathe the same air, to feel a closeness that words can’t touch.

Image: Norbury, J. (2021). Big Panda and Tiny Dragon. Ebury Press.