“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
― Annie Dillard
i have so much swimming around in my migrainey head today. but here i am. on the porch, lying down, with a great wind blowing many types of leaves on many different trees, and the clouds darkening. it always comes back to this. the moments. where our lives are lived out.
it's just me and zoe and some pumpkin bread and the birds and bugs chattering and flapping- because they can, because they do. and a chameleon on the trunk of a tree- changing its color because that is what it was made to do.
the sky is continuing to close and shelter thankfully. the wind remains cool. both are helping me to remember it's november now- mid november, which is forgotten when the day clocks in and out at the same minute during all months of the year. it makes me feel far away. it makes me miss falling leaves, and stone walls and the light of autumn. and that first cool breeze that blows in bringing dryness, making sounds crisper and clear- less buffeted. fall is a time of listening to the world again - of seeing it differently- of remembering- of transition.
i'm so seasonal that it's hard to have this constancy. i crave the transitions- watching life move in a leaf or it's absence. i crave the change- i need it's mandated reflection and review, and to plan for the next season. this is how my world goes around.
thunder just cracked loud enough for me to jump and zoe to let out a small guarded scream.
this moment we are here- on a november saturday- in a place called africa where in a few minutes it will be hot and sunny again and the shorts i'm wearing will make sense. so my seasons will have to shrink to moments- like this one. a pause. a shift in wind and light. i will hover under a darkening cloud and listen.
listen to the spending of my days.
― Annie Dillard
i have so much swimming around in my migrainey head today. but here i am. on the porch, lying down, with a great wind blowing many types of leaves on many different trees, and the clouds darkening. it always comes back to this. the moments. where our lives are lived out.
it's just me and zoe and some pumpkin bread and the birds and bugs chattering and flapping- because they can, because they do. and a chameleon on the trunk of a tree- changing its color because that is what it was made to do.
the sky is continuing to close and shelter thankfully. the wind remains cool. both are helping me to remember it's november now- mid november, which is forgotten when the day clocks in and out at the same minute during all months of the year. it makes me feel far away. it makes me miss falling leaves, and stone walls and the light of autumn. and that first cool breeze that blows in bringing dryness, making sounds crisper and clear- less buffeted. fall is a time of listening to the world again - of seeing it differently- of remembering- of transition.
i'm so seasonal that it's hard to have this constancy. i crave the transitions- watching life move in a leaf or it's absence. i crave the change- i need it's mandated reflection and review, and to plan for the next season. this is how my world goes around.
thunder just cracked loud enough for me to jump and zoe to let out a small guarded scream.
this moment we are here- on a november saturday- in a place called africa where in a few minutes it will be hot and sunny again and the shorts i'm wearing will make sense. so my seasons will have to shrink to moments- like this one. a pause. a shift in wind and light. i will hover under a darkening cloud and listen.
listen to the spending of my days.
