Squash Girl Fall is less about squash and more about learning to love the season you once resisted… and a recipe for Roasted Honeynut Dip with Garlic, Ricotta & Hot Honey.

Based on the schedule and general order of things I’ve created for myself; I should be working on my Norway journal. I’ve started, but instead of feeling like a chill travel journal, it feels more like an archaeological dig into family dynamics, history, language, and geography.

I’ve found myself almost procrastinating by sewing for myself, and I’ve even started to find joy in drafting patterns from scratch, which is not somewhere I ever thought I’d arrive at. I take long walks down roads lined with bright red leaves, alone with my thoughts, and then start thinking about all the things I could make with my bounty of local squash.

I’ve coined this Squash Girl Fall, and it’s starting to catch on with my loved ones as well as people I meet at the farmer’s market. It’s a lifestyle, a mindset. More on that later.

All this to say, I’m in a creative and bountiful season of life, but I’m doing it for me, and for some reason that raises a sense of selfish guilt or angst. If a tree falls in the forest, does anyone hear it? Or if I create something and don’t post it, does it exist? If I make something great and you can’t buy it, does it have a purpose?

I think back to my childhood. Many memories are missing by now, but one thing I remember viscerally is spending hours in a flow state creating whatever. Collages, clothing for dolls, attaching hundreds of sequins to a mask. So many projects that brought me joy and transported me to a place without time or goals.

It was before social media, before podcasts, before we constantly absorbed other people’s ideas. If I needed something to fill my ears, I’d pop a CD into my bright pink Discman.

Lately, I’ve started creating just for the sake of creating. And when I can quiet that lingering itch to post it on my stories or send a picture to friends immediately, I’m transported back to that timeless place.

The thing is, I do want to share. I have so many images stockpiled from the last several years: things I’ve sewn, recipes I could share, a week of experimenting with food in the Mediterranean with my love. I’m finding a way to share that feels authentic, one that doesn’t ruin the flow state.

Right now, that looks like a week of writing, cooking, sewing, and adventuring without going on social media or consuming any media at all. A creative diet, per se. Then I’ll decide what I share.

Back to Squash Girl Fall.

I’ve historically hated fall and winter. The season feels long, dark, and cold, and I always get a sense of the Sunday scaries, except in this metaphor, Sunday is autumn and Monday is winter. I think they call it seasonal depression.

Lately, I’ve been spending my Saturdays helping at a booth at the farmer’s market. I wake up long before the sun rises. This is uncharacteristic of me, and I probably wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for the commitment I made. But surprisingly, once I’ve had my coffee, bundled up, and headed out into the dark, often very wet morning, I start to enjoy myself.

That exact feeling, 6:30 a.m. on a cold, dark morning, is what made me curious about what else I thought I hated. I’ve started running directly into the things I dread about this season, and it’s allowed me to discover everything I love about it instead.

I thought I hated going out in the cold, but I actually love walking through the beautiful colours. I love getting home chilled and warming up again. I love listening to jazz while cooking dinner. I love cracking a window when my home gets warm from the oven and feeling a cool breeze that carries the scent of fall.

And above all else, I love squash. I really thought I hated it all these years, but I truly, deeply love it. Thus: Squash Girl Fall.

It’s about loving squash, obviously, but it’s also about running headfirst into the things you don’t like so you can discover what you do. It’s about spending time in solitude so you can uncover what you’ve been hiding from yourself.

So, I guess my apartment is the forest, and my creative endeavours are the trees. The trees keep falling. Maybe you don’t know about the specific trees, but by falling, they nourish the ecosystem. Take that as you will.