Autumn hangs in the balance between life and decay. It’s the season of transition where the world slows and exhales its last warm breath before the chill of winter. The trees shed their vibrant leaves, layering the ground in colors that will soon fade to brown and gray. The fallen leaves mark an end, as well as a promise of rebirth hidden beneath the soil. As the quiet air holds a sense of anticipation, it invites reflection and reckoning with what we’re ready to let go. 

            It is there, standing motionless amid this transformation, where a lone figure stands as much a part of the field as the fallen leaves. At first glance, it’s a simple thing of burlap and straw—an empty vessel meant to guard the land. But as the shadows of autumn stretch longer, the scarecrow seems to take on a life of its own, embodying our fears as we plant them in the spaces we ignore. 

            Silent and watchful, the scarecrow stands as a reflection of the lingering parts that wait for us to face them. In the season of letting go, the scarecrow is both sentinel and shadow, a witness to the hidden and keeper of all that lies within the in-between.

            Liminality is a transitional state that defies established boundaries, representing the space between distinct stages where conventional classifications fall away. This concept plays a powerful role in many cultures’ rites of passage, where young initiates transition from childhood to adulthood. During this period, they are neither fully adults nor children, existing as “liminal entities” who temporarily slip...