Posts Tagged ‘autumn’
Chores Not Done
The air, thickened and over-warm, cautions against exertion. A brief and once beguiling call to fix up, repair, restore is but a whimper. In a sparse corner of my imagination I hear that whimper and recoil. It’s too damp and the soon-to-fall rain dissuades me from sawing wood or clearing debris. I retreat to the table where a seat awaits. The air inside, comparatively cooler, is seductive. I shall not work says my first yawn. Indeed not, says the second. I’m done, says my nodding head.
Marking Time
On the edge of autumn, shadows, long in tooth, take hostage our memories of days well past. Like those with aging minds, we too are captured by moments long gone. Our relentless march to the ticking of the clock is changed. Where we once moved forward we march in place; marking time to a familiar rhythm but to an altered scene.
We are made strangely existential, we would be horologists. But in this season our now has become “then”. Though we speak of spending time we discover, in this pause, that much of it has already been spent. Our minds once conjured a fantasy regarding time. We would measure it, we would divide it, we would conquer it to believe our end were only a distant future. But…
But now we learn: in this season of shortening days, our mortality is ever near. Now we hear: “Take no thought of the morrow, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Now we know: Our memories are not relics to lament but guideposts to reclaim what matters.
The future is no more known to us than to an infant. Unlike the infant whose memories are unformed, we are captured by the long shadows that surround us. We are visited by the past. Memories bear witness to loss and to hope. Love lost is at least a love once with us. Where there once was love there may yet be love again. This recollection must be shared; Doing so is an epiphany for many. Indeed, though captured by memories we are not condemned to isolation. We tell our story. preach the sermon of our lives, we sing the melody of our loves.
On the edge of autumn, shadows, long in tooth, take hostage our memories of days well past. In them, together, we find what we might otherwise miss in our rush toward an unknown and unknowable future.
For shame….
Thanks to The Christian Gift for a great shot.
The maple I see from my window is clearly embarrassed by the pending nudity of limbs and branches. She is blushing. It must seem odd to her, having nurtured the tree since spring, to now abandon her perch and leave the tree free from her calming presence. If only she could know nor’ easters to come are the sum of the great northern forests’ wiggly flaunting their bare selves. Oh to sing the coming stirring air and let our pale yellow blush burn with brightest passionate red!
Mount Major, Lake Winnipesaukee
Early, this fall, we went to Mount Major. It was probably the clearest view of Lake Winnipesaukee that I have seen since I first visited the region in 1975.
We had a great hike. Translation: I made it to the top after a modest climb. I was surprised by two things, how out of shape I am and that I made it to the top at all.
Rebecca seemed to tolerate baby sitting pretty well.
On a whim... 