We are deep
into the beauty of Autumn…out my windows, on my walks, on my drives. The colors
are a gift just waiting for photos or scuffling our feet through the leaves. I
finally just must admit that October is my favorite month, perhaps for always.
My October
calendar is so full that I cannot even see the dates any longer. Plans and
meetings for An Evening with Poe or the Cemetery Tour combine with my own shows
and, of course, Clue rehearsals. The rehearsals came to a standstill this week
as Trine has fall break, and as much as I wish the students would stay (we have
so much work to do), of course, they go home. I appreciate the break, and I
even need it. I did not travel or go anywhere at all. I have just stayed home
in my purple house to witness the first freeze of the season, and to bake bread
and Halloween cookies
That first
freeze is monumental. All of our summer’s work…gardens, flowers…gone in just a
few hours as is meant to be. I try to keep track of the first freeze every year
and it seems as if it came a couple of weeks early. My morning glories were
glorious this year. I really don’t know the secret, it just happened. The
college girls who moved in next door thanked me for the beautiful gardens. “You’re
welcome,” I replied as they scurried into their house. I love having these
girls next door. It is refreshing for our neighborhood.
On Saturday
night, the night of the big freeze, I sat outdoors as usual. My neighbor, Rhon,
had a campfire. I didn’t have one that night, but the scent of his took me back
so far that I just sat there thinking about so many stories from long ago. The
sky was inky black with the waxing gibbous moon just floating above.
I talk a lot
about my family, community, events, poetry. I talk about the seasons and the
joy of life. I love talking about all of that. You know me pretty well by now. Joy
is not automatic. I am no different than you. I watch the news. I weep at news
stories about children or the destruction of our environment. I have compassion
for so many events and it doesn’t seem to end. But I know that I cannot have
that as my steady diet. Some do, but I am trying hard to find this joy through
the fog.
When I moved
here many years ago there were no stoplights in this town. The land north of
town was all in apple trees. One night my dad was sitting on the porch swing at
our farmhouse. He said to me, “Listen.” I sat next to him and I listened. I
told him I didn’t hear anything. I guess I meant I didn’t hear noise or traffic
and that was true. What was I missing? Quietness. The chirp of the Autumn
crickets trying to get into the kitchen. The rustling of leaves as the Autumn winds
were taking them down one at a time. “Take the time to always notice,” he said.
My dad has been gone for many years now, but his voice still resonates with me.
I have not
forgotten, and even though I live in town, the quietness of my neighborhood is
so lovely.
As I sat
outside on Saturday night, alone, listening to the night sounds, smelling the
scent of Rhon’s campfire, watching the moon slide across the sky, I knew that
joy is still there through all the trauma the world seems to be sending us.
Take the time
to do this, my friends. Find the joy. Be gracious to our environment and work
to preserve the beauty that we call home. I know I am doing that, and in the
middle of my joy comes the poetry and the events, the scuffling of leaves and
photos of trees. We can play music,
plant gardens, adore and protect children. We can keep our jackets by the back
door for our nightly jaunts out into the cool evenings to find the joy that
just waits for us. Don’t miss it, my friends.
“Perhaps this is its way of fighting
back, that sometimes
Something happens better than all the
riches in the world.
It could be anything, but very likely
you noticed it
When love began.
Choose joy. It is not made to be a crumb.”
Mary Oliver
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