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 Sweet transition from the heat, from the work,
from the hard, rough edges of life. On we go now to autumn, to
black, lacy leaves and twigs standing out against an orange sky. The
mornings now have that coolness, that chill that tells us we once
again have made it through the heat and toil and can sit back now
and then and reflect on things.
We can think now of family, of children growing and learning. We can
think of loved ones growing old and feeble, but even more beloved as
we realize what treasures they are to us.
We can think back on childhood memories of lazy mornings in church,
when the droning kept us in constant danger of sleep, of the smell
of coffee, of the taste of purloined doughnuts and the sweet
frosting on them.
We can think back to the fires of spring, when we found that love is
not only terrible, but terribly exciting, too. We can reflect on
moments so sacred they live only within our souls and are never
expressed, because no one is good enough to put the right words to
them. [to top of second
column] |
We look at red barns and horses
starting to shag up for winter. We think of the woods, and the deer,
and the creeks running pure clear and cold with fish and quiet. The
evenings now, the quiet fall evenings when we see the first star
come out right over the town where it has always been and we once
again ask ourselves if it has always been this way and do we make a
difference, or is this simply a chance for our souls to slide
through a beautiful time known as life.
We settle down now to an earlier bed time, to a later getting up
time, to savoring the heat of the morning coffee as well as the
smell and the taste. We look around, now that the fever of summer
work has abated, and we notice people and pets and neighbors that
are precious to us, and we give a little smile and nod, which means,
“I love you, too.”
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to
you by The Fly Fisherman’s Bucket List, published by Rio Grande
books and written by Slim Randles, who had fun researching it.
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