If I had a blog, today I would write about my autumn idyll.
I love the morning after an autumnal storm. The thunder and lightning passed with the darkness and daybreak brings calm. The dark skies that troubled my dreams are breaking into soft piles of white, gold, and magenta that run with the freshening wind, leaving blue sky in their wake.
I have seen a hundred mornings like this in the North Country, when the first breath of Canadian air rushes south to bring the first breath of autumn to a summer-weary land. As the clouds part, the dark water of the lakes begins to come to life and sparkle with blue. The wind carries only a few sounds now: The chirp of crickets, the call of blue jays and the raspy voice of ravens in search of food. The mellow sun is warm on my back, but as it dips beneath the clouds, I am glad to have a fleece jacket in my day-pack.
Today, I am a thousand miles south of “Up North,” writing away with doors and windows flung open to welcome the chill in the air. The mellow light has come too, and my desk is dappled with golden light.
When I got up this morning, my first thought was, “Oh wow! I can go for a walk and clean at the barn, and start my fall photo essay…” But once I finished chores, I was overcome with a sense of peace so luxurious I was called to sit and write and listen to the blue jays and crows calling in my woods. “This is not a work-day,” my soul assured me. “This is a day to revel.” And so I have.
Days like this make it clear what Thoreau experienced on Walden when he wrote, “And so we saunter towards the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever it has done, and shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as on a bankside in autumn. ”
So may it be.