Fall is but a new beginning

Surprise, I am alive!

It is the second last week in August and although our days are still warm, our evenings are cool and mornings smell of pending fall.

Fall is my favourite time of the year. I use to live in Ontario where the mighty oak and strong maple tree flourish. Fall memories were of starting school, Indian summers and splashes of bright orange, reds and yellows. The swish, swish, swishing of rake or shoes through the crunchy offerings from the tree people were almost soothing.

Some are sadden by the coming of fall but I always seemed to be comforted by it. It is a time to slow down after crazy summer activities. To harvest the gardens that we tendered throughout the dog days of summer. Here where I live, the geese and swan begin to migrate back from the north. The lake providing a brief resting spot for the long journey to the south. Their honks and whistles haunt the air as they fly over my house, a reminder that soon winter will be on its way. It is a time of harvest moons hanging low on the horizon and crimson sunsets that inspire one to paint. It is the smell of harvested wheat and canola as the farmers race mother nature and her first frost.

Fall is Thanksgiving and turkey and pumpkin pie, football and school buses driving past my house. It invites all witches and goblins to come calling and the last warm winds from the west sing a lullaby to all living things preparing them for her brother from the north.

Last fall I watched the harvest of vineyards in Tuscany and the golden colours that filled the hills as the leaves changed and eventually dropped to the ground. This year I will hear the roar of lions and the snorting of rhinos as I travel to villages in Kenya. It is less than 70 days away and I feel so blessed that I am able to experience such wonder in this world.

I hope that all of you are doing well and had a fantastic summer. Roxanne, Stephanie, I thank you for being far more diligent in writing than I. Your notes have inspired me at times when inspiration was needed, they also made me joyful and happy. Phyl are you still out there? Leslie your comments have helped me work through some sadness and it is always good to know there are people who can relate to experiences one has been through. Ev… I can’t thank you enough and you know why. Cheryl, are you still peeking in on me? I have to confess that I haven’t done much exercise this whole summer. Walking the dog at best, I have promised myself to get at it soon. Oh and Roxanne, I have your birthday gift, it has been sitting in my office waiting for me to get to the post office. This weekend it is on my list of things to do! Oh and I mustint forget both Gail and Lois for along with Ev they have been guardians of my welfare for some time now.

I finally have a weekend where I’m not doing anything. Well, I am going to a “Hall and Oats” concert but that’s not until Sunday evening. Mostly it will be back to cleaning out unnecessary objects again. The house organizer was a little out of range for my budget so I have decided that perhaps that is motivation enough to get at it on my own, that is unless you care to come help me?

It has been a summer of transition for me, a time of reflection and change and new beginnings, the slow process of grief and womanhood all in one fell swoop. And really, the grief has been more than just about the loss of a spouse, it is about the acceptance that I am starting a new life. It is an excitement of each moment from this point forward.

It has been about coming to grips with and resolving negative issues of my past, curiosity and wonder regarding my future and amazement to the opportunities that are presented to me in each moment I take a breath. It is a bit overwhelming to think of all the possibilities that are there for me to choose from. Yet, to acknowledge the fullness of my life and the choices that are available to me is most certainly exhilarating.

I am just now reading books by the author Louise Hay. She is in her late seventies, listen to what she writes about creativity: (from her book ‘I CAN DO IT’)

“Never make the mistake of thinking that you’re too old for anything. My own life didn’t begin to have meaning until I was in my mid-40’s, when I started teaching. At age 50, I started my publishing company on a very small scale. At 55, I ventured into the world of computers, taking classes and overcoming my fear of them. At 60, I started my first garden and have become an avid organic gardner who grows her own food. At 70, I enrolled in a children’s art class. A few years later, I totally changed my handwriting … I became inspired by author Vimala Rodgers, who wrote ‘Your Handwriting Can Change Your Life.” At 75, I graduated to an adult art class and have started to sell my paintings. My current art teacher wants me to get involved with sculpture next. And recently, I took up yoga, and my body is making positive changes.

A few months ag, I decided to stretch myself in areas that scared me and I took up ballroom dancing. Now I’m taking several classes a week and I’m fulfilling my childhood dream of learning to dance.”

If that isn’t inspiration for every woman out there I don’t know what is!!!! By the way the publishing company she started is “HAY HOUSE”. (see www.louisehay.com )

Well I think I shall do laundry and watch a movie tonight. Nick is working and I’m on my own. A good excuse for buttered popcorn don’t you think?

Oh I must tell you Nick cut his beautiful long hair. I almost cried, why did he do it? I think with school coming up he also though it would be a new beginning. We are both moving on. These are very exciting times for us both.

Enjoy the poem my dear ones. And have a great weekend!

Autumn

Summer yawns as the soft whispers of autumn
Sing their seasonal lullaby.
Each leaf relinquishing what's left of their energy
For one final burst of fireworks to salute Mother Nature.
And as the chilly winds move their way from the north,
Autumn still resists, for her dance is slow and deliberate.
Each tree, each shrub must be tucked in
Prepared to receive the blanket that winter will cover them with.
The last of the duck have left this pond and the water lay stagnant
In anticipation of it's soon to be solid form.
All time frozen, until the gentle kiss of spring.

~s.h.2005~