wind child of autumn

It's the last day in October, Halloween. The slant of the afternoon sun is low. My backyard is filled with so much sun in the summer, but now it wears long shadows from the neighbor's trees.

wind child, unseen, nevertheless felt

no origin or home

wind child comes and goes, disturbing all she blows through and past

over and under, tossed and turned

wind child blusters and plays a mirthful game of hide and seek

The wind is loud in the pines and junipers; melodic in the aspen that still holds onto a few leaves. Curdled clouds are blowing in and my cup sits half full, milky and sweet.

autumn: a period of maturity verging on decline

the free dictionary.com

Most of the leaves have fallen and gathered themselves into messy piles around the yard; a last magnificent burnished hoorah before everything becomes shades of grey dusted in white.

So, this afternoon I'll relish the faint warm rays as they touch my face, watch the shifting shadows play across the lavender and listen to the autumn season as a wind child.

Missy

If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance

Comments

Good morning, lab rats!

One of my favorite movies is “A Good Year,” starring Russell Crowe. It’s a fun little romp through the South of France, filled with wine, romance and very poignant moments of clarity. Max, is a driven, pompous business man who is willing to use, abuse and finagle his way to the top, and then gloat. He is never satisfied with his accomplishments. "Good morning, lab rats,” indicates his ‘tude. Fanny, on the other hand, is a bicycle wielding, passionate woman. She is suspicious, short-tempered and very jealous, yet content with her way of life; minding the business of others. The storyline is obvious: opposites attract, love blooms and then blows up. Reflecting on the vast difference in their existences, this dialogue is uttered: Max: This place does not suit my life. Fanny: No Max, it’s your life that does not suit this place. Makes me wonder how many times I have said no to things because it didn’t fit into my prec...

urban girl in the country

green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas. I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans. This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm. My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff. On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers. Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep. Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven! The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week. Yippee! I no longer needed to ...

wishing flower, vulnerable and beautiful

do you see a weed or a wish? Let’s just say, I’m not an early morning girl. Those who know me appreciate this and quietly leave me alone until I’ve had a chance to emerge from my pre-coffee zombie state. However, there is a bird glee club that begins at about 3:30, yes in the morning. It’s lovely and melodic; leaving me no choice but to listen. Translated, this means I’ve been up before my norm. The youthful hours are warm, but fresh; they beg for a walk, and so does Isabella. Yesterday was a little cooler so our pace was speedy, at least for my little legs. We passed cars and bushes and bugs zipping around … and the rejected weed. pulled up by its roots discarded wishing flower tossed aside left at the edge of the sidewalk the sun beat down life ebbing from the slender stalk, leaves drying, privately curling desperate to hold onto being funny , how I noticed the thrown-away on a morning walk my thought to stop and ...

Isabella Bird Miscellany

Search This Blog