It took me a couple of weeks to cozy up close to Fall. I said goodbye to my favourite season and slowly waded into the novelty of autumn with warm soups, baking, candles, jazz, library books, and the fireplace. Each morning I open the curtains to see my neighbourhood is covered in a sprinkling of frost, and I know I must get busy completing outdoor jobs before the cold sets in. Organizing the garage, trimming the hedges and tucking away the patio furniture dampen my spirits, but all is made well again by a perfectly autumnal adventure outing.
The girls and I have been making good use of trails, forests, waterfronts and neighbourhood walks. I figure if I institute a daily habit of time in fresh air, it will be easier to adhere to our regimen come -20 temperatures. Thankfully, fall in Ottawa is gorgeous and makes the invitation to go outside an easily accepted proposition.
I have been noting that during our morning walks, and outings to the woods, I have been filled with this warm, weightless, happy feeling. It comes just from noticing the fiery beauty of a fallen maple leaf or sometimes from the gorgeous way the sun rays splice through the near bare tree branches, illuminating my little girls' ponytails. If the key to a happy life is in noticing the small treasures around us, this fall is helping light the way.
I am so enjoying a book of poetry I bought myself for my birthday. The poems are really helping me see these tiny miracles for what they are: the intricacy of a spider's web, the way the geese know to fly south, a pink sky at night. All evidence that there are forces greater than ourselves at work. I find that of all the questions I have about life, parenting, relationships, love, purpose can be adequately summed up by the indescribable wonder I experience when I sit in silent reverie before such tiny miracles.
"Day is done
Gone the sun.
From the lakes, from the hills,
from the sky.
All is well,
God is nigh."
- Taps, the song sung at the end of my childhood Girl guide meetings