Early Morning Geese
A Shaft of Light
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Room To Breathe
It's been a busy time, forcing the blog into a distant second place as I work hard to introduce the new book, "Rainbow Rising". We've been racing from engagement to engagement; sedate library settings, hot and noisy street fairs, book fairs and cozy book clubs. And more recently, the workshops that are proving to be popular, interactive, hands-on and lots of fun.
But autumn is creeping in. Our trees in Virginia are beginning to show a rosy blush as they shed their emerald colors, and leaves flutter gently to the ground.
It's a time to dream, a time to remember, and a time fall back into a place of peace.
This Sunday afternoon I'll take a walk through the woods and give my soul room to breathe. We'll suck in the freshening breezes of summer's wake, my soul and I, as they usher in the crispness of the changing season. We'll feel the dampness rising from mossy woodland floor, that carries the scent of peat moss, that mingles with smell of wood smoke curling from a bonfire in the distance. And I'll listen to the sound of wild birds as they gather in my cove for night to rest before their long flight south.
The mushrooms and toadstools are abundant this year. The ground looks as though a box of brightly colored marbles has been scattered among the fallen leaves.
This evening I may share a glass of wine from this year's harvest with friends and think of other lovely times with people I love, and with whom I shared the waning days of summer.
And early tomorrow morning, as the first glitter of sunlight filters through the trees that crowd the lake, with the scent of wild apples on the wind, I'll hear the noisy chatter of Canada Geese, as they shake themselves awake, spread their wings, crane their long necks, and rise as one with a rush of air and ruffled water as they take to the air, fall into formation and disappear into the sky. And my soul and I will breathe.
But autumn is creeping in. Our trees in Virginia are beginning to show a rosy blush as they shed their emerald colors, and leaves flutter gently to the ground.
It's a time to dream, a time to remember, and a time fall back into a place of peace.
This Sunday afternoon I'll take a walk through the woods and give my soul room to breathe. We'll suck in the freshening breezes of summer's wake, my soul and I, as they usher in the crispness of the changing season. We'll feel the dampness rising from mossy woodland floor, that carries the scent of peat moss, that mingles with smell of wood smoke curling from a bonfire in the distance. And I'll listen to the sound of wild birds as they gather in my cove for night to rest before their long flight south.
The mushrooms and toadstools are abundant this year. The ground looks as though a box of brightly colored marbles has been scattered among the fallen leaves.
This evening I may share a glass of wine from this year's harvest with friends and think of other lovely times with people I love, and with whom I shared the waning days of summer.
And early tomorrow morning, as the first glitter of sunlight filters through the trees that crowd the lake, with the scent of wild apples on the wind, I'll hear the noisy chatter of Canada Geese, as they shake themselves awake, spread their wings, crane their long necks, and rise as one with a rush of air and ruffled water as they take to the air, fall into formation and disappear into the sky. And my soul and I will breathe.
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