These last weeks I have kept close to home, venturing to work and back with little else filling my days or nights. Mostly because I have been battling one of those winter colds, (and finally winning) but also because the roads have been icy, and getting back to our cozy world seems smart and safe and more important than anything. On this schedule I have gotten home while it’s still light, so a slow meandering stroll to take in the forest and field is a must do.
Just about any season might be a possible walking season, but early April in Vermont might be the toughest there is for this activity. Roads are muddy and rutty, generally wet and even icy in shady spots, but still, with extra determination, I get outside when I can face it. Even if my long coat is required and I must wear a wool hat, the sunshine is delicious. The icy north wind dictates how long or short these jaunts can last, but one does build fortitude while combating such conditions, right?
With our move behind us, we are once again able to get out and about and celebrate with autumn in full flame around us. Vermont is abuzz with tourists from near and far, taking in the many vistas, and counting themselves lucky to view the foliage. We are thrilled to be right there on the trail with them as the leaves peak with color while the temperatures are still mild enough to enjoy being outdoors. Whatever may still be on the To-Do list can wait until tomorrow when there is such a glorious afternoon!
Bags packed, ticket confirmed, heading south-west to Austin, Texas, for a short but much anticipated family celebration. Time to break away from all life’s constraints and just float on all the love flowing with that warm breeze and big sky.
Although I’ll have little more than “36 Hours in Austin” I do hope to have plenty to report on the other side. In the meantime my dear ones, I suggest you take a walk in the outdoors or do some yoga, but either way certainly dance a bit.
The news is fearful, the politics offensive and the Spring tardy, so just keep the TV off, the radio on anything that makes you move and smile simultaneously, and try to remember we are powerfully loving beings on this tiny planet. Doctor’s orders! xxoo
New beginnings open before us each moment, but especially in the Autumn, with golden hues hitting the green, tasseled cow corn tall enough to be harvested, frosty morning air and apple trees laden with fruit: seasonal indicators to prod us forward. The shift from beach chair to classroom comes at the same time. This migration inward is a challenge on every possible level for families across the continent: shuffling schedules, sitting again, waking up to an alarm, sitting again, planning lunches and snacks, sitting again, and how to get all the laundry done? Did I mention sitting again? School sessions are in full swing, for students and teachers alike; together we face those challenges once again.
Thankfully there are bursts of color, everywhere, literally.
I have been running for decades, although the task has never been particularly easy nor have I been very fast, so I thought it time to learn about this sport I hope to continue for yet another decade. With this in mind, last April, on Fool’s Day, I began a ten week running clinic. I really didn’t know what to expect other than what was offered in the short blurb in our weekly paper: meet every Wednesday evening, 2 hour running time coupled with short lectures, gather at the town recreational path, and most importantly, all levels are welcome. After 5 weeks, I’m thrilled I signed up for what I have gained in such a short time is far more than I could have anticipated. Our very first class, shockingly, still met in frigid weather, 26 degrees on the thermometer. Ten women arrived, bundled in hats and gloves, and wearing multiple layers. Our coach arrived in a full down-parker. But what he told us on that night was to first and foremost keep running fun, and his weekly message has kept that theme at its very core. Then we learned how to run hills because this is Vermont after all.
Halloween starts the dark months in the northern hemisphere, when clocks race toward night while we still yearn for day, trees that just last week were ablaze are now bare, the mosaic of the forest floor morphs into a brown sepia tone, and the monochromatic blue-grey skyline fades quickly to black. Where can we look to find a spark? How can we edge up a smile that lasts past the early dusk? What lurks just ahead that can transform our outlook? Well, I have three suggestions.