Here Already (Again)
Submitting to Seasonal Immediacy
For those of us living in Hamilton County, Tennessee, today was the first day of the 2026/2027 school year. This morning, my three youngest children rose before dawn, stumbled into their clothes, brushed their teeth, grabbed their lunch boxes, and waited for the yellow school bus to whisk them away to a new semester of pencils, papers, books, and hopefully a few new friends.
I couldn’t believe it was already the first day of school. Again. Where did the summer go?
This is the first year I have no children attending elementary school. And while I love this season of parenting where my kids can carry intelligent conversations and hold their own in a game of chess, I confess I do feel a slight sense of sadness at passing by the rainbow-colored crayons and markers in the school supply aisle. (That said, I do have several young nieces and nephews … perhaps I could justify buying some for them, right?)
When you’re young, time seems to tick by so slowly. I felt like I was waiting forever to graduate from high school and start “real life.” (Kind of funny to think living on a college hall was “real life.”)
I also remember wanting to roll my eyes when older folks would say things like, “Don’t wish this time away,” “You’re only young once,” “You’re going to miss these days,” etc.
They also said things like that when I was sleep-deprived and dealing with dirty diapers and tantrum-prone toddlers. I can’t say I miss those days, but I am starting to realize that the time I have with my children is fleeting. Even though no one’s left home yet, I don’t see my college kids as often as I used to as they go to work and hang out with friends. (As they should, of course!) Change is definitely in the air around here.
A couple weeks ago when I shared a family photo in a group text, my sister didn’t recognize my youngest son. He’d just gone through a growth spurt, and she was sure he must be my eldest daughter’s boyfriend or something.
My kids are growing up. I am growing older. And we’re all starting to notice.
Time truly flies, and the more time goes by, the faster it goes.
And there’s no going back. For everything there is a season — and ONLY that season allotted. If you miss it, you miss it.
On the homestead, this truth hits especially hard. Each season (sometimes each week!) offers something new. But if I don’t get my act together to capture the moment, I will lose it entirely. This holds true for breeding goats, milking dairy animals, brooding new chicks, preparing and planting the garden, overseeding pasture, processing vegetables, harvesting honey, and gearing up for farm tours. I can’t plant tomatoes in winter or have baby goats in the fall. I have seasonal constraints and limited windows of opportunity.
Take the use of my elderberry tree, for example. We are blessed to have an elderberry growing in the back yard downhill from our paddock waterer. When the waterer gets dumped, the tree gets a drink. As a result, it has grown very large. This is great — except that the extra long branches do not fare well in thunderstorms. This spring, nearly half the tree split from the main trunk, leaving several branches on the ground with their umbrellas of white flowers.
My stomach sank at the sight. Not only would none of those flowers now turn into berries for medicinal syrup-making, but if I did not immediately remove the branches the animals could get sick from eating the leaves. Elderberry is toxic unless properly processed.
So although I didn’t feel like relocating half a tree that morning beyond the animal fence (which was of course up a steep hill), my husband and I knocked it out. I also harvested the flowers before they rotted and made an an elderflower tea concentrate which I then froze into ice cubes and stored. Not as tasty as elderberry syrup, but at least I could preserve some of the tree’s medicinal value.
Fast forward to July — the hot and humid month in which I feel like doing NOTHING outside air conditioned spaces. But animals apparently eat in all seasons, so outside I must go.
While milking the goats, I noticed the elderberry tree was sagging with fruit. But since it was so hot and sticky outside, I dragged my feet to actually harvest the bounty. I wish most harvesting could happen in the fall when it’s deliciously cool and invigorating, but if I waited till then, there would be no elderberry harvest at all. What the birds wouldn’t eat would simply fall off the tree and rot on the ground. Elderberries are absolute divas — they demand immediate attention or they go all to pieces.
There have even been years when I’ve actually gone through the trouble of picking the berries and still missed out because I waited too long to process them. It is very disappointing to have to throw out an entire grocery bag’s worth of berries because they over-ripened. Who am I kidding? They rotted — all because I didn’t prioritize capturing their value when I had the chance.
So even though I felt less than excited about harvesting in hot and humid July, I did not want to repeat my mistakes and determined to gather the berries while they could be gathered. I also recruited my husband to help as he is a particular fan of elderberry syrup. And tall — which is most advantageous for getting berries from high branches.
Jason repressed a grin as he watched me struggle to reach the bunches of black orbs, and in retrospect, I probably shouldn’t be jumping up and down with scissors in my hand. He quickly offered to do the job himself. (I did hold the bag for him, though.) Sure enough, we picked, processed, and stored the berries safely as juice in the freezer. And it’s a darn good thing, because the birds wound up eating the rest of them in a matter of days.
Whether it’s an elderberry harvest, a season at work, or a limited time opportunity, you can either use it or lose it. Forgotten tomatoes rot on the vine. Cucumbers turn into pig food if I don’t eat them myself. Eggs I neglect to collect may wind up feeding a snake. And if I fail to plant for the fall, there will simply be no harvest in October.
Time marches on regardless of how I feel about it. And the older I get, the faster it marches. I can either complain about this, check out emotionally when I’m in an uncomfortable season, or miss the present by fixating on the past or future. But all time is limited on this earth — that’s what makes it precious.
Psalm 90 says, “Teach us to number our days.” Not so we freak out trying to control how many days we have left, but so we can use the time we have now wisely. Even if that means attending to or apologizing for things we may have neglected in their seasons. Or removing distractions so we can capture the most from the seasons we’re in currently.
I’m not suggesting that we all try to maximize and optimize all things in our lives to be the most “productive” — however you define that. But if we prioritize what Jesus called the Greatest Commandment — to love God and love our neighbors as ourselves — we cannot fail to be fruitful in whatever season we’re in.
Carpe diem!
So much of life has this seasonal immediacy. Thank you for the reminder to be fruitful in our "present."