Autumn Colors

ImagePurple. Red. Gold. Nature wears the colors of royalty in the neighborhood. I bow to you, Mother Earth. You have my respect and love.

 

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Color Me Warm

2012-11-04 11.29.15Oooof! It’s that kind of autumn day in the lowlands when it’s dark and grey and cold and wet. We’re having a die-hard drizzle out there and I wish I didn’t have to go out and brave the elements. Today, my tropical wimp is out in full force, but I’ve been getting my armor ready. Now I just need to put them on and get out. If I have to think about it, I’m going to call up and say, “I’m not able to make it. I’m sick. Cough. Cough.”

Thank God for warm clothes!

A Forest in the Fall

ImageA walk in the woods when autumn is being born is a special treat. Leaves are turning and some have fallen, crunching as feet walk upon them. Mushrooms are sprouting and acorns are falling. Birds flutter by and sing their songs. There’s something moving in the underbrush. What’s that? The damp earth sticks to thick soles, embed themselves into grooved shoe bottoms, and brought back home to adorn clean floors. And what did I find on the forest floor? A fat heart full with thanksgiving, just like mine.

Do You Like Your Life?

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I take my photos with my mobile phone. When I was standing here last weekend, I had a very slight twinge of “if only”.

If only I had the right camera to document this particular moment in my life. If only I had the skills to capture the light reflecting from the meadow, the glimmer of movement in the underbrush, the dust motes lazily riding the breeze.

But I didn’t have the right camera, and still don’t, nor do I have the skills, so I just snapped this as a reminder of that moment, and took home a feeling of peace from those few seconds when the world stood still so that the tiny gifts of nature could do their dance in silence.

This reminds me of the words Randall Jarrell wrote:

“The days went by for him, all different and all the same. The boy was happy, and yet he didn’t know that he was happy, exactly: he couldn’t remember having been unhappy. If one day as he played at the edge of the forest some talking bird had flown down and asked him: “Do you like your life” he would not have known what to say, but would have asked the bird: “Can you not like it?”