Field Notes: Finding Balance After the Harvest

The Pause After Chaos

After weeks of prepping for our Halloween drop and a whirlwind season of markets, I can finally feel the season tugging me toward balance.

The frenzy has passed (candles poured, shelves stocked, fields tended...) and now there’s a pause. This season has a way of reminding us: the scales don’t stay tipped forever.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to find balance. Not when life is calm, but when it feels like everything around you is chaos. The kind of balance that doesn’t come from perfection, but from learning how to stand steady even when the ground feels uneven.

The Emotional Harvest

This summer wasn’t just busy, it was heavy.

We lost friendships by speaking our truth.

We felt abandoned in places we thought were safe.

We learned the cost of honesty, and the sting of realizing not everyone would stay when the story shifted.

It was messy, and it hurt. There were days when it felt like too much. But even in the unraveling, something deeper was happening... a clearing, a recalibration.

The same way the fields must be cut back before they can rest, sometimes we have to lose what no longer serves in order to find our footing again.

What Finding Balance Really Means

And yet, even after all of that here I am, finding balance again.

Not the kind of balance that looks perfect on the outside, but the kind that lets you breathe a little deeper, steady your hands, and remember that you can keep going.

Balance, I’m learning, isn’t a final destination. It’s not a perfectly even set of scales that never move. It’s the rhythm of leaning too far in one direction, then finding your way back. It’s the pause between breaths, the moment of recalibrating after a stumble, the reminder that rest is just as holy as the work.

The Fields Need Rest Too

The farm knows this rhythm better than I do. After the rush of summer and the fullness of harvest, the fields demand their pause.

The soil needs time to recover before it can hold the next season’s seeds. The vines that once spilled over with fruit now look bare, cut back so they can rest.

It’s a reminder that balance isn’t optional, it’s survival. The land doesn’t apologize for slowing down, and neither should we. Just as the fields find strength in their season of quiet, I’m learning to honor the same truth in myself. Rest is not wasted time. Rest is what allows the work to bloom again.

What’s Coming Next for Wildberry

This season of recalibrating is shaping more than just my days, it’s reshaping Wildberry itself. We’ve learned the cost of doing too much, of pouring out without pausing to refill.

Next year, we’ll be moving into a smaller, slower rhythm.

It will be less about doing everything for everyone, and more about tending deeply to the circle that gathers with us. A rhythm that honors balance, protects the magic, and gives us the space to create from a place that’s full rather than drained.

Just as the fields rest to prepare for what’s ahead, so too are we. Something new is taking root here, and as the seasons turn, I’ll be sharing more about the circle that will open with the winter solstice.

A Circle for Balance

Maybe you’re feeling it too... that pull to find balance after the chaos, to breathe a little deeper, to let rest be just as holy as the work. My hope is that this season gives you space to recalibrate in your own way.

In the months ahead, I’ll be sharing more about the smaller, slower circle that’s forming here at Wildberry. It will be the way we gather, tell stories, and move with the seasons together.

If you’ve been craving a rhythm that protects the magic and honors the pause, you may already belong in this circle. 🌙