Laying close to the surface of me today is the reminder I found here. When things feel like they are headed off the rails the best way to ride it out is to remember all the good. Erin makes this point so perfectly through her and words and the accompanying photographs.
And as my family and I struggle to find some sense of normalcy in our still newly forming routine my home has become a place that doesn't always feel like my respite from the storm. In some ways it has become quite the opposite.
This morning on my walk with Hazel to school I was reminded of one of the many reasons I love being out in my neighborhood....people - complete strangers - say good morning. In fact, it is the majority of people that take part in this act of community building, not only a select few.
This simple act of kindness and goodwill. A little thing with a powerful message attached.
Good morning. Well. I should say Good afternoon....since it is now that.
Truly in my bones, I know that the possibility of slower days lies a few months off from now. My brain gets that it isn't in the plan to check some of the things off on the "for fun" list. The freshly washed fabric pile will remain just that until sometime in January.
My tasks in this coming week live in the realm of getting ready for colder days ahead. The garden is still requiring some covering up and tucking in. I have learned to draw comfort from the fact that every year it is the same....I always think I am going to be more timely with this kind of preparation. However it is pretty much the rule that the turning of a calendar page and the promise of hard frosts is what spurs me to action.
There is most definitely some squash roasting in my near future.
But. This weekend, in anticipation of days when there is nothing to do (HA!) I said hello to an old friend.
Scenes like these make this Mama pause. And give thought to all that exists outside of my realm. About all that goes on above and beyond my ability to juggle morning routines, lunchmaking and the neverending pile of laundry.
The magic of a birds nest. Spent after a season of childrearing, but prepared for another go around come Spring.
The wonder of a tiny toadstool land. Sprouted on a picnic table in the woods. Bringing the table one small step closer to it's origins in the soil.
These are reminders I take to heart, of all that I love about this world. I carry them with me through my days, and call on their powers when things threaten to overtake me.
With a deep inhale, magic is restored to my reality.
There is something about the shifting of days in this season.
My thoughts and my being move in time with those of the natural world around me. I am preparing my home both inside and out for colder times. I am settling myself into a routine for the long and dark winter days ahead.
And yet, despite the reality that all nature's creatures are closing themselves in, I feel more alive in this season than any other.
In a perfect world I would always look at the cup as half-full. I would wake up every morning with joy in my heart.
While these sentiments are always present in my thoughts, the execution can sometimes leave a little bit to be desired. And the excuses for these lapses are many.
The celebration of Thanksgiving is one I look forward to each year. It is easy to be thankful when one is surrounded by family and friends...sharing a meal together created by a collective effort and by our own hands. Collectively the list of gratitudes grows as each guest recalls what they are most thankful for.
This tradition of sharing will serve as a tangible reminder to carry forward into the coming season of cold and dark. My cup is full and so is my heart.
Wishing you all a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend ahead.
The days of cozy indoor pursuits are closing in. The bookshelves are ready. The wool is cupboard stocked. Paints and crayons and sketchbooks join the ranks of everyday routine once again.
To my mind, there is no season like this one for these kinds of pursuits. The inspiration is everywhere. And somehow it is easier to find the time to sit and make things without feeling like I ought to be doing something else.