gifts

 the light is changing this weekend, shifting an hour back. the colors around us are following the sun's lead. i noticed as we drove today that the leaves come off the tops of the trees first... leaving the lower, more established leaves to linger. the scene looks much like the photo above. golden and glowing. perhaps reminding us that it's time to head inside, and cozy up for the next few months. 


how much do you allow the seasons to effect you? how much do you follow the natural rhythms that say there is a time to romp and play outside (you can also read this as "playing outside of your self"), and that there is at time to come in (again, "in") and sleep and restore. there are the shoulder seasons of spring and fall where you can do a little of both, but the summer and winter are for hard living and experiencing... what about this... 


plant new ideas in the spring, 
once they take root, watch the sun and rain and your self nourish them all summer,
gather in the fruits of your ideas and actions in the fall,
and then comes winter... 
winter, for taking time to examine your bounty of the year. time to "pour over seed catalogs" and dream about what you might "plant" next spring... 


what about that? do you think there is anything resembling this natural world pattern in your life? can you embrace the darker times of the year, and see them as a balance for the lighter times?   

there are more days now when i'm aware of the red thread of life reaching from my heart, from my head. this thread that tangles in trees, in thoughts, in touching life. it's easier to see in the fall as leaves tumble, as leaves snuggle together on the ground ready to turn to deep black soil (the nourishing kind, for feeding those trees that loom above them). i'm aware of  feeling tugs and snags of my thread. reminding me of where i've been, and leading me forward. i do love the fall and winter for their visibility. for their subtlety. 

above me, the final flourishing of the leaves. the fantastic color parade as it falls to finish. 
below me, roots digging in for the cold times. reaching deep for any lingering warmth.
and i, in the center of them both, feeling full of life and light. 

i'm remembering now, and the light dims outside, that the light is warming up inside. i'm at the doorway of fall into winter: winter, the cathedral of introspection, the church of soups and songs with family and friends around a piano. so i won't mourn the loss of daylight in the evenings. i'll feel the warmth of a cozy light at the head of a driveway covered in leaves a little snow, and i'll head in.
"in."will you join me?