Autumn and New Beginnings
This morning on my walk I could feel the edges of autumn creeping in. There is a cooler breeze crisping up the morning air. It’s almost sweater weather. A few of the leaves are turning from their deep greens to a yellow squash color. I love this feeling of autumn. I love the longer shadows of August. I love the end of the hot summer days. For me this is the beginning of the season of gratitude. This signals the harvest time, the time to take stock. This is the time when I can step back and review the year. In many ways it’s been a tough year. In many ways it’s been a good year. My harvest will be plentiful. We sold a home that was difficult to sell due to the fact that it sat on a top of a steep hill. But, none the less, it was our home for almost 9 years. We lived there long enough to see the aspens grow a few feet. We lived there long enough to see the same mourning doves come back year after year. Long enough to watch a family of bob cats grow up and hear the chorus of coyotes. We were there long enough to weather many Colorado snows and “shovelings” of the steep driveway. I was always wondering when I was out there shoveling with my husband and a car would drive by were they thinking, “were they nuts to buy that house?” However, the morning sunrises from that house were unsurpassed. Morning after morning of bright oranges, reds and deep purple colors all a glow from the east. It’s a painter’s glee. Oh and the stars on a moonlit clear night stepping out on the deck and watching for shooting stars and pointing out the constellations. We sold the house to another kindred spirit. (I believe that most homes seek out their owners.) I believe most of us are instinctively drawn to a home. Even if they haven’t discovered the joyous sunsets or starry nights yet they soon will. If they really look they will wake up one morning to see four bucks resting in the morning under the juniper trees with sunlight glowing on their velvet antlers. Looking doesn’t mean “seeing” though. Seeing is the wonder of looking beyond it’s the joy of awareness of the little miracles life has to offer. This home we sold saw me through two surgeries and the death of my father. I have baked dozens of Christmas cookies, batches of soup and chicken wings for the games. We have moved into an apartment temporarily and we are waiting to move into our new home. I believe that this home found us. I am restless for privacy, restless to see the stars again from my front porch, restless to sit on my back patio with coffee and wait for the sun to rise. I am longing once again to watch new aspens grow. To see what hidden gifts this new home will bestow on us. We close in September and move in at the best time of the year. I can smell the turkey roasting already. I am looking forward to the chili cooking for the Bronco games and the sound of family laughing and enjoying our home. Homes are meant to be shared. They are meant to be shelters of love, growth peace and healing.
My dad was blessed to be able to die in his home in his own bed. I remember sitting the edge of his bed and we both were watching the poetic movement of the dust motes on a ray of sunshine. We were marveling at what you can’t see unless you look towards the light. For me, that means “light” or being aware. So, welcome autumn, here’s to a new home and new memories. I can smell the gingerbread already!
Written by, V. Hornsby