Fall might be my favorite season because it challenges me to be in the now. If you think about what it signifies—everything dying back, the cold coming—you could easily spiral downward. But I meet Fall’s challenge head on. It’s the challenge to appreciate what is right before you, and not to be apprehensive about what’s coming or mournful that everything you love is dying, leaving, going dormant.
If I have gotten good at anything over the years, it’s being in the moment, appreciating what I’m being given. Because that’s really all we’ve got. Nothing’s permanent, and things turn out the way they will, which usually departs significantly from our ideal vision. At every juncture, we're given choices. Do we roll with it and move forward? Do we elect to do something that brings us joy, or any array of things that don't?
I take sunny cool autumnal Sundays like some people take recreational drugs. I wake up, take the measure of the day, and decide to go ahead and get high on it. It’s here, I’m here, why not? Love the day you’re with. Forget the things you should be doing. You can do those on crappy cold rainy November afternoons.
I take sunny cool autumnal Sundays like some people take recreational drugs. I wake up, take the measure of the day, and decide to go ahead and get high on it. It’s here, I’m here, why not? Love the day you’re with. Forget the things you should be doing. You can do those on crappy cold rainy November afternoons.
Allis-Chalmers, becalmed. Around here, if you own any open land, you have to have a tractor, or within five years you own wooded land.
My favorite sycamore, just a hollow shell with a half-shell of live robust bark and some hopeful sprouts. This is a tree that's moving on, doing its best with what it's got in the time it's been given.
Harold's weekend getaway, probably the ultimate man-cave.
Farther on down, one of the many welljacks that stud this country. They're not new. We've been drilling shallow wells for oil and gas in Washington County for many years.
A luscious creek, darting with small fish
that alluring turn in the road. Who could stop here? It pulls me on and on.
There are many place where, in wet periods, one must ford the creek. No such problem now, just a matter of a couple of well-placed leaps.
I am so lucky to have a road like this, waiting for me an easy walk from my front door. Well, many people would think this much too far to walk to, much less down, but running has recalibrated my thinker.
11 comments:
I truly love the beautiful area in which you live and enjoy seeing the pictures!
I can imagine running down that road. When I was in high school I ran through the woods. Later, when I lived in Oklahoma, I loved visiting the Wichita Mts Wildlife refuge and running the trails.
Spent all day yesterday in the hospital with a friend who might not make it. The juxtaposition of that brutal reality with the glorious beauty of fall was hard to reconcile. Thank you for this reminder to live in the moment and appreciate what is happening right now!
I read it slowly because I knew it was going to be good. And now I am going to enjoy it again.
Love all the comments--such a wide variety of life! And I wish there was smell-a-vision (?) so I could smell the fall in the air where you are taking those pictures. And I want a woman-cave like Harold's!
Yes, you are lucky. There are so few un-paved roads left, most of them topped with macadam.
Nothing like a dirt country road.
woah that is really really beautiful.
reading this was basically reading a story. beautiful indeed
Thanks for this lovely reminder to live the present moment.
Thanks for helping me to remember not to stress about the coming winter. Fall is not my favorite for that very reason. And yet, I love many things about winter. It's the departure of things that gets me. Love your many roads.
I was really getting into a groove with fall melancholy, and this post inspired me. I enjoyed the tour, too!
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