The unseasonably hot, dry spell of September continued for long past the time that we normally have cool nights and cold mornings when I would see my breath. In place of the normal weather were temperatures as hot as July, mixed with drought. The leaves of trees, normally turning bright colors of yellow and orange, simply withered into brown and fell to the ground, fertilizing the Earth despite the ignorance and short-sightedness of the human world.

After weeks of withering heat, a wet cold front blew through, gratefully dropping two and a half inches of rain in 48 hours and bringing the unnatural weather to an end. The ground revived and in the strength of their deep roots, trees turned green overnight and began the process of autumn colors. I found myself speaking with coworkers about the weather and discovered, with little surprise, that they were unable to accept the gravity of the situation or the needs of their children. One fellow, who makes bets with coworkers over “who is right” about trivial matters, would not bet me that I could provide evidence that climate change was already occurring, yet is betting the love of his children for squandering their future in his prideful ignorance.

Despite the dry and hot weather, the produce auction has continued to provide a large amount of food, including many potatoes, sweet potatoes, apples, winter squash, sweet onions and pumpkins. The large buyers like ourselves have mainly ended their seasons, so our club found little competition for the high quality, local food. At one auction, we purchased 42 half-peck (5 lbs.) bags of apples, which sell for $5 to $6 each at our Farmers Market, for $2 a bag. At another auction, the buyer provided members with potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, tomatoes, peppers, winter squash and much more, still coming in under our budget for the season.

Despite the hot and dry weather, I harvested three Musqee de Provence squash (pumpkins) from our garden, the largest weighing twenty-one pounds. We have grown the heirloom squash, which originates from the southern part of France, for years, using seeds saved from previous harvests for the next spring’s sowing.

Seeking to find a use for the large fruits, I’ve learned to make pumpkin pies from scratch. Though many who have tried it have said they don’t particularly care for pumpkin pie, they all agree that it is “about the best pumpkin pie I’ve ever had.”

During the fall equinox, we hosted a friend who asked to see our garden. I said something like, “No, you don’t want to see the garden.” I explained that over the summer I had about five and a half hours of sleep a night due to work with the food club, babysitting, my regular work, and other activities, and had let the garden go, especially after the hot drought had withered many crops.

For our fall equinox meal, we opened a robust porter, but were unable to provide the IPA that our friend requested. My wife set Zinnias, Marigolds and Hosta leaves in small vases on our table and we made a large meal of local, Asian Indian style beans and rice, salad with apples and goat cheese, plum and apple tart, and several other dishes. Our muskmelon, grown in newly broken, clayish ground was tasteless and a disappointment, a testament to the challenges of gardening in the slowly improving harvests of sustainable horticulture.

The hot and dry weather brought up for many of us the challenges facing humanity and the denial that some people in the United States perpetuate, unable to face the injustice we are doing to future generations. In the four axioms of the Essential, the changes to the climate caused me to focus on the fourth key essential practice:

The communities must live in sustainable harmony with the natural communities around them.

To me, as someone who lives in a somewhat rural community and who witnesses the human-dwarfing majesty of nature, the idea that humanity must accept the Earth as greater than our meager strivings is as obvious at the effect of sunlight and darkness on the Earth around me. I recall hearing, years ago, that pagans were called “Heathens” because they were people living in the countryside—on the heath.

As a student of history, I learned long ago that urban areas, with their large populations, wealth and organized military force, dominated economically and culturally the rural areas around them. In my own explorations, seeing first-hand the overpowering strength of nature around me, I realized that in my everyday empiricism in “the heath,” I could see that the Earth was far greater than human endeavor.

Yet, in the harsh human world, the urban god of wealth, power-over and violence holds sway, exporting a patriarchal culture that worships an Abraxas—a god-devil that delivers wealth and power-over and cruelty and hardship. Overlaying the incredibly benevolent, abundant and beautiful life-giving Earth, harsh, tyrannical human kings have superimposed their own images, making many who feel love and sensitivity toward all life question the benevolent nature of spiritual realm.

As time proceeds on, I see that the crises which face humanity are caused by neither a harsh, imaginary urban god or a cruel natural world, but rather are the result of our own excesses. The Earth, quietly and gently continuing it’s cycle of life, sleep and new life, moves into the future with an abundance and strength that eludes many who proclaim humanity as greater than the ground upon which we walk.