Saturday, 10:30 AM. . .
What a pleasure it was to "sleep in" this morning until eight
o'clock! I look forward to Tuesday and Saturday mornings for that reason. After yesterday’s dealings with a sputtering,
engine-light-flashing car, while out of town, the extra rest was blissfully
welcome. It was brief bliss however, since
I quickly remembered the dismal status of my car and that I am presently
without a vehicle. Not that I had any
plans to go anywhere today, mind you.
But what if the need arises? What about tomorrow? I placate myself by opting to delay thinking
about those questions until later, when and if the need arises. Right now, I’m quite content with being “stuck”
here. It’s a beautiful, sunshiny day! The
fragrance in the air is heavenly! The
warmth of the sun is like summer, yet the air is sprinkled with leaves floating
aimlessly to the ground. There is a subtle difference in the ‘look’ of things
and a keen ear will notice the changes in the outdoor sounds – the bird noises,
for one thing, the rustling of the small animals in the woods, for
another. Their chattering noises tell me they are very
busy preparing their winter ‘stash.’ Ah,
yes, the long-awaited transitions from summer into fall have begun, and, try as
I might to hold onto one season, the next will always scoop me up and carry me
joyfully to the next.
I am remembering a past September day, the 18th, as a matter of fact, but I don't know the year. It was when some or all of my kids were still in school. It was a day much like this one but further into fall and the trees were just about to reach their peak of colorful brilliance. It was so hot, that when the kids got off the school bus, I took them to the river to go swimming; a rare occasion for mid-September. It was a favorite place to us for many reasons, but I, particularly, was amazed by the fact that when I stood in a certain spot there in the river, I could look around me in every direction and all signs of civilization were hidden from view -- no roads, houses, wires -- not even in the distance. [I always thought it was an awsome sight to behold and I found it thrilling to feel like I was catching glimpses of 'untouched' landscape similar to what our former inhabitants, the Delaware Indians, had seen. The reason for their reverence of the land is, indeed, apparant to me.] What a memorable day that turned out to be! As we waded out into the river, we were treated to a grand display of brightly colored leaves floating all around us and the reflection of the vibrant mountains, flawlessly mirrored in the quiet sheen of the crystal clear water was an absolutely breathtaking spiritual experience! I thought about how I had almost resisted the spontaneity of the idea to drop everything and go to the river. (There were too many things we should be doing, like homework, making dinner, etc., to be so impulsive.) "I made the right choice," I decided, once there, and it gave me a chill to think how close I had come to missing out on those treasured moments. I had taken the time to carefully watch a red leaf as it approached me. It brushed up against my arm as it floated by and I watched it drift downstream until it was out of sight. "I'm going to tuck this away forever," I thought, and that is what I have done. I call them "mental pictures," absorbing a moment in time and filing it away in one of the private 'albumns' of my mind, where I can view it at will, anytime, anywhere. Around this time of year, I have always recalled that long ago day. I can 'see' every detail of that red leaf, still, and sometimes I wonder about the rest of its sojourn on the Delaware. Do you suppose it sailed all the way to Philadelphia, carrying the DNA from my arm with it? If so, does that mean that I, in a sense, made that journey, too? Who's to say where reality and essence divide? Or if the division is complete or intertwined?
Today's reality is that I am leaving my car cares behind me and that the endeavor I am most eager for is to
roll some big stumps around and arrange them in a circle around the fire pit. This, most definitely, is of highest priority
on my ‘fall readiness’ list – even above having the heating system checked. I’m looking forward to bonfires on crisp,
autumn evenings! Sometimes I wonder what the little woodland critters think of me. They don’t seem to pause what they’re doing
when I invade their world. Maybe they’re
so busy, they don’t notice me at all.
Maybe they think I’m merely one of them, however oddly so. If that’s the case, I feel honored
to be welcome in their wholesome, unassuming, busy world!
I wonder if they “sleep in” on Saturday’s, too……………………………..?
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