Just Call Me Frederick

One of my favorite children's books was Frederick by Lio Lionni. It was a story told like a fable of a field mouse who spent his days absorbing the colors, the feel of the sun, the words that would remind him of sunny days when he and the other mice were holed up underground in the cold, dark winter.

The other mice are annoyed with Frederick because while he is enjoying the present, they are preparing for the future. Of course, when winter comes, Frederick has little food stored up for himself. As the winter drags on, the other mice get bored and restless. That's when Frederick comes through. Frederick starts talking. With words he paints pictures of flowers, sunshine, and warmer days for his friends. The moral of the story is a wise one. There is a need for the gifts each of us provide.

Lately I feel like Frederick. Not the wisdom part...the wistful part. When I walk I can't take my eyes off of the trees along the sidewalk. I seem to stop and photograph everything. One tree will be all green, the next is a shade of red so bright it almost hurts the eyes. The hillsides are a myriad of colors; gold, red, orange, and green. The pear trees haven't begun to change, but the eastern redbud has turned bright yellow and is dropping its leaves.

As I walk I breathe in the air, soak up the sun, drink in the colors and try to embed them all in my brain so that on a cold, gray day in February I will be able to pull them from my memory bank.

Part of me is still the 'worker mouse'. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about gathering nuts for the winter months. Giant Eagle will make sure there is plenty of stuff to make my own comforting soups and stews. But there is still a little work to be done. Monday I mowed the grass while soaking up the blue sky and rust colored hills.

Maggie wandered the yard sniffing the air and the grass for the many smells left by deer, rabbits, and other unseen visitors.

Yesterday I pulled frost-wilted plants from the beds and thinned out the herb garden, breathing in the sun-warmed sage and thyme. Maggie laid beside me in the grass soaking up the sun.

Any excuse to be outside, I thought. Just call us "Frederick".

Gradual Transitions

Years ago my family spent the end of summer in Connecticut at family cabins. The end always came too soon, and I, who relished vacations, never relished the idea of going back to work.

At the time we were living in Florida, which was a minimum 3 day drive for us. I would pack up the kids and the dog and head south. Larry was never able to allot that much time for a vacation, so the pattern was for me to drive the family north, visiting friends on the way. I would pick him up at the Hartford Airport so he could spend a week or 10 days with us, and take him back to the airport so he could fly home. Then we would begin our southern trek, visiting more family and friends.

The first day started out full of wistfulness. The first night and next day was spent at Nanny's catching up. Phase 2 was through Virginia. The kids traveled well, and I sang along on the radio, while they did their best to read or pretend they didn't know me. Day 3 was through the flats of the Carolina's and into Georgia. It was here I started to plan my fall school activities. Book clubs, incentives, bulletin boards, and story programs all came into focus on this particularly flat stretch of the road.

By the time I got home, (after 3 days on the road????) I was ready, not just to be home, but to get back to work!

Fall is like that. Summer fades reluctantly, but slowly. The warm days slow down and turn into gorgeous days. The humidity clears. Afternoon walks become more pleasant as the heat relaxes.
One day you are in shorts, the next in jeans. A hoodie is added in the evenings. The cold front moves through. A sweatshirt is donned for a mid-day walk. The air is brisk and refreshing on your face.

And you realize you have just made the transition from summer to 'almost' winter.

And just like that I realize it is still lovely out. The heat I enjoy is gone, but my pace is quickened when I walk. My coat keeps me warm. Winter will be here soon, but before it gets here there will be more gradual transitions. And when it arrives, I will be ready.

Living in the Moment

The last few weeks have been gorgeous! Blue sky, bright sun, low humidity; a crystal clear day with cool but not cold temperatures. It is Fall. Is there a better time of year? I don't think so. Even so, I have such a hard time welcoming September which signals the end of summer. I love the warm weather and sunshine so much, that when Labor Day comes, I start to regret the end of summer. I see fall as the pre-cursor to winter. I find it really hard to just enjoy it.

That attitude has always bothered me and I've struggled to find a way to deal with it. Worry is something I just don't allow myself to do. It is a waste of time. It ruins the present without doing anything to improve the future. I get that. So when I hesitate to really enjoy the present because 'winter will be here soon' I recognize the uselessness of that attitude. It may be easy to recognize, but that doesn't mean it is easy to conquer.

Each year I struggle to find a way to embrace the coming of fall. Finally this year I 'got' it. I had that AHA moment when the picture finally came into clear focus and I saw the real issue. I realized that for every day I was wishing it was still August, I was missing the fact that it was gorgeous out.

Last year I attacked the problem by listing the 10 things I liked about fall. This year I will do it differently. Today I updated my blog page with just a few of my favorite fall pics. It took me hours to do this because I had so many pictures of fall to sort through. Some old, some new. Clearly I love this season!

One of my favorites though is the single red leaf on the green maple tree. Maggie and I were out for our walk when I saw it. Hmmph! Clearly somebody (or someleaf) is in a hurry! I felt like telling it to take its time and enjoy the moment.

It is so much more fun that way.