the nights are crisper now. diva dog and i go for our evening walk, now quiet with the early darkness, a sweater wrapped across my shoulders....it's sleeves reminding me of winter soon enough to come. daytime, a few leaves have already begun to blaze and glory in their finest reds and amber. my morning cup of coffee on the deck a bit quicker, feet no longer soaking in warmth from the wood...now slippers are needed to keep the cold from following me inside. afternoons still warm my face, as the last bits of summer trace the sky. it's a strange time in my spirit. the contentment of fall - my favorite season....the sadness of summer's warmth and freedom and adventure turning the bend and waving out the back window....my spirit already beginning to wrap itself in a cottony cocoon to wait out the shortened days and frozen trails through my Woodspath. given a chance, i'd vote winter out of the seasonal lineup altogether. given a chance, i'd fly across the map from one autumn to another, reveling in the delicious colors and scents and smells. already smoke from a cedar fire creeps along the treetops. winter is made for rest. the earth pulls up her blanket of snow and covers herself for a few months...no tilling of her soil...no feet across her back...her waters quiet now, as birds and boats each find warmer places to play. a time for peace and reflection. of course it will be a few months before the first real freeze, but i feel it pinging and creeping about in my spirit. soon to come. usually around this time, i too begin to slow a bit...become more introspective...rest a bit in my mind. but this is no ordinary year...the introspection that usually falls with each unique snowflake has been with me throughout the summer...and along with my autumnal quietness is a parralel of excitement...a jittery foot bobbing up and down in my soul... a feeling, a sense, that Something Great and Good and different than ever before is about to happen. what it is - who knows. this has been a summer of tremendous growth. of finding my True Self...seeing her and not turning from the reflection this time...not denying her her existance...her right and her need to Be. and learning to Just Be, without needing to force the issue. Just Be. To speak my thoughts with the same kindness and consideration as always, but to speak them. i watch my 17-year old stepdaughter being unique by being the same...all those rows of skinny headbands and ponytails caught up in a bun...who can tell one from the other? i remember when fitting in with just the right group was essential. even the arties and the stoners had their own similar dress codes and hairstyles and clique-ishness. testing out personas with the safety net of the group. there is a very important attorney in town that i went to school with...1st grade through high school. and for the life of me - no matter what that man accomplishes, i'll always remember him as the kid who always won our 5th grade hotdog eating contests. every thursday was hot dog day in the school cafeteria. for 25-cents, the lunch lady gave you 2 hotdogs and some other forgettable but no-doubt nutritious foods on your sectioned melamine lunch tray. we'd each donate 1 of our hot dogs to the Contest. every thursday, this now-attorney and another kid would gobble and choke down as many of those boiled nightmares as they could. the contender - i remember his name as well. he is also famous for gluing his hands together in art class in 4th grade. i've lost track of him. another memorable classmate (oh God - here i go with the menopausal remembrance moments. better take 'em when i get 'em!) left school for a few years, allegedly to live in California. when he moved back, he was soon expelled after his required reading of his short story in Creative Writing. (now called Language Arts). we, as 8th graders in a primarily Good School, had never heard of poronography, let alone READ it, let alone WRITTEN it. and here he was for all the world in front of the class reading his assignment. now don't ask me how i know this next part, because it involved a call-in-sick-to-work girls chili-skiing-porn party. thought up by some very bored almost-30 year olds full of Margaritas. and it was a very long time ago. BUT the point is, that this kid is making go-zillions of dollars writing for the porn industry. as if those things have a plot. again, not that i have a TON of experience in those matters. and i have strong opinions in that regard. but i mentioned to another alumni that i'd seen this kid's name and they confirmed that it was indeed the same person. who knew? and here i am slogging it out day-to-day. huh. so anyway...back to my original points. but the mood is gone now. see? it's that weaving in and out of the Summer Soul entwined with the Autumn Soul. time to cuddle into my sheets with my diva dog licking my hand goodnight. and goodnight to you, as well. L.
