I have been in awe of this tree for 38 years, even though we have lived here for only 20 years. I used to drive past the very house we live in now and secretly yearn for it. The children were small, I was married to someone else, and we had only one car. After I dropped their daddy off at work, I drove slowly past, taking in the beauty of the tree, telling my children to say, "Thank you God for my eyes." I never dreamed that almost twenty years later, my dream house would come to me and that very tree would be in my neighbor's yard. Every autumn day that prayer goes from my mind to God's ear.
At this time of year I feel as if I have shaken a wadded up, scented, crocheted edged, perfumed hanky and tossed its contents in the air: tiny bits of the past, present and future mingle, bringing to life those I've lost, and those I've found, and those still to come into my life.
I feel a longing for the ocean's rhythm inside my soul. My thoughts roll away as if on a melancholy wave, and return with an unexpected treasure.
Today I am inspired by an idea that will eventually take shape as a poem, a story, or maybe a book. Perhaps my idea will lay dormant through winter, and erupt in spring. It is germinating, and when it takes root, I am confident it will flourish. To rush it would be a mistake. To live in the past is a mistake, to live for the future prevents one from experiencing the moment, which is really the only thing any of us have.
Are you affected by seasonal changes? Do you like winter? We haven't had to turn our heat on yet. But the day is fast approaching. Do you cocoon? Or are you productive?