It is now October, and “morning has broken”. The day dawned fair and the air was crisp at the “early service”. I have always love October . The bright blue skies, of October, when filled with the majestic billows of stark white cumulus clouds, has no rivals for beauty. Leaves in autumn hues are loosed in October and bring a friendly wildness to the wind. October is full of pumpkins, small fires in gardens, where tomatoes used to grow -and chrysanthemums. . .and there is also the “Harvest Moon”- and apples. I thought of all of this at the early service and my heart grew increasingly grateful.
I spent the last day of September, doing the things, I never tire of. Lyla and I meandered by the laughing river, for a while. On this day, she was content to watch the river. Lyla is usually quite a little chatterbox . . . until she gets to the banks of the river. There, she is thoughtful and unlikely to say anything. I do the same. I want Lyla to develop the habit of observation . . and contemplation, so I dare not “disturb the peace” of such moments. At some point, a boat will appear or a Coast Guard plane will fly by, with a pilot in training, and divert our attention. Otherwise, we are satisfied to sit in silence. When I was in elementary school, if I had so much as glanced out the window, the teacher accused me of “daydreaming in class” and promptly wrote a note to my parents. She acted like it was sinful. I never understood that train of thought. I made good grades and completed my work, so it seemed I could afford the luxury of wondering about things, for just a little while. Besides that, I am older now, and I know for sure that imagination has pulled me through many a “rough patch”. I was always able to imagine making it through and better times to come. I could imagine the heart of others and their plights. Imagination is really the heart of compassion. If you imagine enough, you are bound to create-and to solve problems when they arise. . . so I nurture this in Lyla-and everybody else, too.
Lyla and I went to the big flat rock by the little bridge, after our lofty notions . This is where the river laughs loudest. We listened til some squirrels made a ruckus in an old magnolia tree. I have noticed them out in great numbers, stealing pecans mostly. The sudden coolness must be making them second guess their storehouses. Lyla laughed at their antics. We walked a good ways, til Lyla fell asleep.
Jenny finished her writing assignment, while Lyla finished her nap by the young dogwood outside the kitchen window.
The last night of September was especially beautiful. The sky was a very dark blue with clouds that passed, so that the light of the almost full moon was dappled and constantly changing. I felt like I was watching September leave . . and with a lot of fanfare.
I drove back to the rabbit patch, not too long after Lyla had her “honey cakes” and bacon. It was another beautiful drive. Kyle nor Christian were home when I pulled in the drive. I brought my things in and went straightaway to work. I pulled the spent stalks of the “old house flowers” as they were long past their glory. I put on a load of laundry and put the window fan away. I also need to clear out the beds of loosestrife, which is also know by lythrum- that mama does not like. I started a roast , started a pot of corn and will fry the last okra of the year. I meant to gather branches while supper cooked, but twilight swiftly turns to night. . . It is October, after all.
Dear Diary, I am glad for moments spent in silence by places like peaceful rivers and old rocks. I am glad for the moon and friendly clouds-and autumn leaves in the wind . . . and I am glad for October, for it is a lovely time.