Cosmos cyanotype, September 2026.
The Last Whippoorwill
It was Minou who told me summer was ending.
She demands her first walk before the light has decided to arrive — and in September, that means genuine dark. We move through it together in a small bubble of flashlight, the darkness warm and enveloping, still humid enough that the air has weight. The crickets are loud. The chickens hear us passing and burble softly from their coop. And as we walked, from somewhere in the trees at the edge of the garden, a single whippoorwill called.
Once. No answer came.
The whippoorwill migrates south as summer ends. That single unanswered call in the warm dark was the first thread pulling loose. Summer does not end all at once. It ends in small signals — one species at a time, one morning darker than the last, one walk where you notice for the first time that you need the flashlight.
The garden knows before I do. I am out there every day deadheading, coaxing one more round of flowers, holding on to the last colors a little longer. The butterflies are more present now than in high summer, working the blossoms with focused intensity, gathering the last nectar before the cold makes it impossible. The flowers have taken on the slightly worn but elegant look of aged beauties — still vivid, still generous, but carrying the season in them now.
Tra le stagioni. Between the seasons. The garden does not grieve the turning. It completes itself.
The garden, September 2026.
The Botanica Table
Pochi ingredienti, fatti bene | Few ingredients, done well.
Risotto al Borragine | Borage Risotto
Risotto al borragine, September 2026.
Borage is two plants in one. The leaves are full and mineral, slightly rough to the touch, with a freshness that is green and herbal and faintly salty — the taste of something that has been growing hard all summer. The flowers are entirely different: small, star-shaped, blue-violet, delicate, with a sweetness that belongs to a different register entirely. Same plant, two completely different expressions. September in a single dish.
This is a classic risotto in its bones — soffritto, white wine, good stock, patience, parmigiano at the end. What makes it something else is the borage. The tender young leaves, blanched and puréed with a little warm stock, are added during cooking so they have time to become part of the risotto rather than sitting on top of it. The result is unexpected — a green so vibrant it stops you, earthy and fresh simultaneously, unlike anything a standard risotto offers.
The flowers go on last, raw, scattered without arrangement. They add a whisper of sweetness and a beauty that makes the dish almost too pretty to disturb. Almost.
Borage has been grown in Italian gardens for centuries, in the kitchen as well as the erboristeria. For a September dish, it seems exactly right.
Make a risotto the way you know how — soffritto of shallot in butter, white wine, good warm stock added ladle by ladle, patience throughout. About halfway through cooking, stir in a smooth purée of young borage leaves, briefly blanched and blended with a little warm stock. Finish with parmigiano and butter. The risotto should be loose and flowing — all'onda, as the Italians say — moving when you tilt the bowl. Scatter borage flowers on top just before serving. Eat immediately.
A Change in Light
September has always been a month of getting ready.
In the Italian tradition, this is the time of fare le conserve — putting things up, filling the pantry, preserving what summer gave before winter takes it away. Tomatoes into sauce. Herbs dried and stored. The cellar stocked, the garden cut back, the household quietly reorganized around what is coming rather than what has been. It is purposeful work, neither summer’s abundance nor winter’s stillness. It belongs to the threshold.
The body is doing something similar, whether we ask it to or not.
As the days shorten, the pattern of light reaching the eyes changes — not only in duration, but in timing. Light is the circadian system’s primary environmental cue, helping synchronize the rhythms that organize sleep and wakefulness, hormone release, body temperature, and other daily processes. The body registers changes in the light-dark cycle even before we consciously think of ourselves as entering a new season.
What we can do is support that preparation rather than fight it.
The erboristeria tradition understood September as a month for tonics — herbs and preparations used to support resilience as the body moved into a more demanding season.
Modern botanical research approaches these traditions from another direction. Cordyceps has been studied for its potential relationship to energy metabolism and physical performance, while lion’s mane has attracted research interest for its potential effects on cognition. The research is still developing; both have much longer histories of traditional use.
Focus and courage. September asks for both.
Botanica’s Focus Gummies combine CBD with cordyceps and lion’s mane in a formulation created for moments that call for sustained attention. Energy Gummies build on the same botanical foundation with vitamin B12 for days that ask a little more of us.
Borragine | Borage
Borragine, harvested from the garden, 2026.
Borago officinalis. In Italian, borragine — a plant with deep roots in European herbal and culinary traditions. It was my mother who first told me about it. She knew borage through the British herbal tradition, where it had long been valued as a nourishing garden herb. I started growing it because of her. I have kept growing it because of what it gives.
The borage in the basket was gathered just before becoming the risotto. The basket belonged to my great-grandmother, hand-woven, old enough that no one quite remembers where it came from. It seemed right to use it for a plant my mother first told me about.
Borragine in flower, the garden, 2026.
The leaves are extraordinary — rough and substantial, with a distinctly green, mineral character. Borage has been used as both food and herb for centuries. In the British herbal tradition, it was counted among the old cordial herbs — plants associated with comforting the heart and lifting the spirits.
And then there is its enduring association with courage and joy. Ego borago gaudia semper ago — I, borage, always bring joy. However the phrase traveled through the centuries, it captures something of the affection generations of gardeners and herbalists have had for this unusual plant.
For September, that seems enough.
A note on culinary use: Borage can contain naturally occurring pyrrolizidine alkaloids (PAs), compounds that can be harmful to the liver with sufficient exposure. For this reason, borage is best treated as an occasional culinary ingredient rather than one for frequent or concentrated consumption.
Thank you for reading Issue No. 05 of The Botanica Journal. We will be back in October — deeper into autumn, always rooted in the garden.
To read past issues, please click here.
Warmly,
Harlow
— Botanica
Explore the Full Wellness System
These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. Botanica products are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.
