Slouching toward autumn
Dear reader,
September is my favorite month. (You should also know that I say this about the months of June and October, too.) There is just something about the air, the clarity, the electricity, the crispness that sets my body into metaphorical motion.
It is hard to believe that we’re here, a week into September, with only a few weeks of proper summer left. It has all felt so fast, and so slow, and I find myself thinking about all the ways I interact with my life.
In many ways, I find myself slouching, dragging my feet on the impending arrival of autumn. Though it is a favorite season of mine, summer feels incomplete.
There is always more to do: work on the camper, prepare the camper for winter, mow the lawn, clean up the yard, take more warm and sweaty walks, smell the flowers that are still in bloom, wonder why my neighbor’s dog is running down the street, gaze at the glimmering Hudson river, etc., etc., etc.
I also know that nothing is ever incomplete, and it is all happening in perfect timing.
Yet, I am excited for the clarity that comes with fall. In the crisp air, I find a steady attention, a lingering devotion, and a reverence for the changing of the seasons. How special it is to be present enough to witness a leaf turn to gold.