It's a day that went in a direction which I did not anticipate or support. On the upside:
I winter-readied part of the garden.
I had a very pleasant text conversation that went on for a long while with my son-in-law.
Ed and I had a sweet breakfast that did not start until close to noon.
And, I picked up a brimming box of veggies from our farmers who will be supplying us with produce all the way through November.
On the downside -- well, the day did not move forward. You know how it feels to be suspended? Like you're waiting for something, though you really can't tell what? Yeah. My Saturday, to a T.
Perhaps we need days like these. Transition moments. Moving from early Fall to late Fall, from one state of equilibrium to another.
October is a tricky month for us northerners. On the one hand, the colors are stunning. The gentle movement of a golden birch, or the magnificent display of red on a maple -- you really can't ask for better eye candy, though perhaps that expression -- eye candy -- deflates their worth, because it implies an insignificance, a triviality, even as the progression of Fall is spiritually moving, a heady experience that makes you think deeply about life and beauty and the passage of time.
But aside from colors, there is the matter of the shortening of days and the unpredictability of the weather. October is cold, but not always. Wet -- sometimes. Dark by dinnertime, with the expectation of even more dark thrown at you by the imminent return of daylight un-savings time (for us -- November 1).
You have to work harder to boost your spirits in October (and even harder in November, even as you're already working overtime on this because of COVID and everything else that the last few months have unraveled for us.)
So okay, let's work hard and add some steps to the day; I did make it to 10,000 yesterday, but just barely. As for today -- let's walk the garden and take a look at what's blooming in the yard. Dahlias!
And asters.
Imagine yourself to be taking in a deep breath of autumn air! Earthy and fragrant, with plants that are quietly settling into their wintry repose.
Inside again. It's nearly evening. I have a predinner FaceTime with Primrose. Happy child!
Busy child.
Kids never have still days. Their wheels move at a constant high RPM.
Which reminds me, there's the matter of movement. So, isn't it time for you to do the Irish jig with us? Or, rather, with me. Ed did two steps then gave up. If we are ever in Ireland and the music comes on, he'll be the one having a Guiness (even though he's not normally a beer drinker, but when in Ireland...) and I'll show off my learned accomplishments. Want to try? Here's the lesson I found to be doable, even by a 67 year old:
I have to say, despite the kick kick squash the can, I'm still behind on my FitBit steps today. It's raining outside, but I must do my around the barn in eighty days!
New habits, new routines. You know the French saying plus ça change (the more things change, the more they stay the same)? Don't buy it. We're all capable of even transformative change. Yes we are.
I winter-readied part of the garden.
I had a very pleasant text conversation that went on for a long while with my son-in-law.
Ed and I had a sweet breakfast that did not start until close to noon.
And, I picked up a brimming box of veggies from our farmers who will be supplying us with produce all the way through November.
On the downside -- well, the day did not move forward. You know how it feels to be suspended? Like you're waiting for something, though you really can't tell what? Yeah. My Saturday, to a T.
Perhaps we need days like these. Transition moments. Moving from early Fall to late Fall, from one state of equilibrium to another.
October is a tricky month for us northerners. On the one hand, the colors are stunning. The gentle movement of a golden birch, or the magnificent display of red on a maple -- you really can't ask for better eye candy, though perhaps that expression -- eye candy -- deflates their worth, because it implies an insignificance, a triviality, even as the progression of Fall is spiritually moving, a heady experience that makes you think deeply about life and beauty and the passage of time.
But aside from colors, there is the matter of the shortening of days and the unpredictability of the weather. October is cold, but not always. Wet -- sometimes. Dark by dinnertime, with the expectation of even more dark thrown at you by the imminent return of daylight un-savings time (for us -- November 1).
You have to work harder to boost your spirits in October (and even harder in November, even as you're already working overtime on this because of COVID and everything else that the last few months have unraveled for us.)
So okay, let's work hard and add some steps to the day; I did make it to 10,000 yesterday, but just barely. As for today -- let's walk the garden and take a look at what's blooming in the yard. Dahlias!
And asters.
Imagine yourself to be taking in a deep breath of autumn air! Earthy and fragrant, with plants that are quietly settling into their wintry repose.
Inside again. It's nearly evening. I have a predinner FaceTime with Primrose. Happy child!
Busy child.
Kids never have still days. Their wheels move at a constant high RPM.
Which reminds me, there's the matter of movement. So, isn't it time for you to do the Irish jig with us? Or, rather, with me. Ed did two steps then gave up. If we are ever in Ireland and the music comes on, he'll be the one having a Guiness (even though he's not normally a beer drinker, but when in Ireland...) and I'll show off my learned accomplishments. Want to try? Here's the lesson I found to be doable, even by a 67 year old:
I have to say, despite the kick kick squash the can, I'm still behind on my FitBit steps today. It's raining outside, but I must do my around the barn in eighty days!
New habits, new routines. You know the French saying plus ça change (the more things change, the more they stay the same)? Don't buy it. We're all capable of even transformative change. Yes we are.
