Saturday morning at my farmer’s market visit, I was acutely aware of the change of seasons. It wasn’t just the nip in the air and the extra layers I had added that morning. It wasn’t even the mounds of pumpkins and gourds all dressed up in their autumn colors. What I noticed that has stayed with me the last days was that,instead of the vegetables and fruits that bloomed into the world on vines and branches surrounded by leafy green foliage, what dominated display after display were roots….roots we eat. Carrots both orange and yellow and even black. (When did these appear on the food scene?) Slender white parsnips, turnips tinged with purple rings and red radishes looking like bundles of Christmas tree ornaments. Red beets and golden beets plucked from the darkest dirt. Rutabagas like softballs ready to be flung across an invisible base. All these sat side by side with potatoes and onions and the last of summer’s herbs.

This is our step into winter. We have lived joyfully and somewhat lightly on the surface of the earth. We have felt the grass between our bare toes and stumbled over sand and rocky beaches. We have plucked juicy tomatoes and snacked on cucumbers that snapped with crispness. But for winter these vegetables will not hold up. Instead we need the food that comes from deeper in the ground, food that has had to burrow deep to find its source of warmth and growth. These are the foods that last. They don’t bruise with bumps or drip juice down freezing fingers. These roots which nourish us are terrific sources of what we need for the cold that will soon descend.

Seeing the colorful array of these root vegetables on Saturday, I thought about how important it is to understand what grounds us, what will take us through the dark and more frigid times in our lives. I thought of how there have been times in my life when the only sensible thing to do was stop, plant my feet and remember in what soil I have been grown, in what part of earth and heaven I have known home. For each of us this groundedness comes in different forms, from different sources.

Family and friends are roots for me. My faith community keeps me grounded in ritual, tradition, questions and hope. Many authors I admire give language to what holds me in the deepest places. And then there is the view of the Mississippi River that blesses me every day and the waters of Lake Superior whose visions I tuck away to remind me of my humble place on the planet. I can’t forget the sprightly chipmunk who runs every time I open the door to the deck and the cardinal that flashes his red presence when I am lucky to see. And there is the Big Black Dog and the giggling sound of the little boys down the street who visit our fish pond with their breathless grandparents in tow.

None of these, of course, could be added to a hearty vegetable soup to keep me warm in the winter that will arrive. But all these, and so much more, will ground me and help me settle in for whatever winter has to offer. Like the turnips and carrots, I will dig deep into the places of warmth that feed me as the darkness continues its slow waltz onto the dance floor of my days. As layer upon layer of clothing is needed, I will remember the gift of the root vegetables whose lives depend on the darkness of soil and the groundedness that brings life.

And you. What roots will nourish you in the cold of winter to come?