With the Arrival of Fall . . .

Even under a blue sky, the air is crisp, the sun is not quite as warm and the shadows are just a little bit longer. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves. . . change is coming. Autumn is here.

And with the arrival of fall, my mind reflects on the past year; my thoughts turn to the plans and the dreams I have had.  Remember my dreams?  Like the leaves which soon must fall, so too must my dreams.  Like the leaves which will sprout anew in spring, so too must my dreams wait--on hold until the spring or perhaps even the summer.  We thought we might have been able purchase a property where we could pursue our dream, but such was not meant to be--at least not yet.

Change is coming whether we want it or not.  Funny how as the first leaves turn, I think of the first grays in my hair, the lines around my eyes . . . guess I'm in the autumn of my own life (or at the very least I'm in late, late summer).  Change is coming.  And while it might not bring the new life of springtime, autumn still holds hope.  The toil of summer comes to fruition in the last harvest: crisp red apples, big round pumpkins and the last of the potatoes.  One last hurrah and then everything winds down.  Then the world will sleep under its blanket of snow, waiting for whatever dreams may come . . .

Lullabys and Dreams

I should have been knitting at naptime (there was a sock calling me, waiting for some attention, hoping to get longer . . . ). But I was compelled to sit there in the dark with the soft sounds of a lullaby playing over the rhythmic whir of a fan. Naptime. Quiet time. All those little babes asleep. Each and every little angel is somebody's baby--not always perfect, but lovable just the same. A little person.

If only I could have laid down to close my eyes too, if only to join them briefly in slumber . . . alas, I could not.

So, breathe deeply.

Listen to the white noise.

Peacefully content.

Quiet contemplation.

Lost in a moment, in a thought . . .

Stop to enjoy the silent interlude.