October: Angels, Harvest’s End, and the Work of Care
October arrives with misted mornings, woodsmoke in the air, and a gentle sense of ending. Harvest is nearly gathered, the fields lie stubbled and bare, and leaves turn to russet, gold, and flame. The Church marks Michaelmas (29th September) at the edge of this month, a feast of angels, courage, and the quiet battle between light and darkness. Traditionally, it was also the close of harvest and the start of “winter preparations.”
October invites us to consider a different kind of strength: not loud or forceful, but steadfast. The kind that shows up, that tends the land, that keeps praying when the nights grow longer. This is the season of caretaking: storing apples, chopping wood, paying attention to what needs mending. Faith in October is practical. Hope looks like clearing the last of the garden, lighting a candle earlier in the evening, trusting that even as things fall and fade, God is still making all things whole.
From the Earth
The countryside shifts into deeper tones. Acorns and conkers scatter footpaths, spiders weave misted webs, and geese call overhead in ragged, migrating lines. The last blackberries cling to thorny branches, sweetening in the cold. Pumpkins and squash sit bright against the darkening soil, and hedges glow with rosehips and hawthorn berries.
The trees loosen their grip. Leaves fall, soil breathes, and the world begins its long descent into rest. It is not death, but a kind of trust, that after surrender comes renewal.
Those Who Went Before
St Francis of Assisi (Feast Day: 4th October)
St Francis is known across the world, but he is also a saint perfectly suited to October. He loved creation wholeheartedly, birds, wolves, wind, and sun, seeing them not as ornaments but as family, fellow worshippers of God. He walked barefoot through fields, gave away riches, and rebuilt falling-down chapels with his hands.
Near the end of his life, almost blind and in pain, Francis composed the Canticle of the Creatures, praising God through “Brother Sun,” “Sister Moon,” fire, water, earth, and even death. His was not a sentimental love of nature, but a deep, suffering, joy-filled one: a love that remained when summer had gone.
In a month where the world changes colour and begins to die back, Francis reminds us to bless it all: the light, the loss, the leaving.
A Prayer in Action
This month, choose one small act of care for the world around you:
Fill a bird feeder
Leave water out for wildlife
Plant bulbs for spring
Join a local litter clean-up or gently care for a neglected corner of your street
As you do, pray:
“God of all creation, teach me to tend what You have made: to care as an act of love.”
Faith can be as simple as feeding birds or stewarding soil.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.”
