Brisk Morning Meditation

We had pretty glorious weather this week in my part of the world. Not too hot, light breeze, no humidity, glorious skies a deeper blue than the ocean, and the sobering realization that Autumn, as wonderful as it is, will not last until the Spring.

The house we live in has a front lawn and a backyard. They were both great to have when our two children were younger as they gave them and their friends someplace else to play. 

Our kids are grown and flown now so I spend a lot of time alone, cutting the grass and cursing the lawn. This time of year we watch the leaves pile up as the season changes, but there are no trees to speak of on our property.

I get a kick out of the propeller pods I see everywhere. Do you remember those from when we were kids? Another great invention by nature to better assure the perpetuation of all the various species of trees-not that we ever saw it that way when we were smaller. 

There are so many this year and so many of them land on the walk leading to the house that every footfall sounds like you're walking in Rice Krispies. It makes it impossible to sneak up on anyone.

The squirrels in the neighborhood love the helicopter pods and can tear through them in a blink to get to the seed in the center. The pods are so numerous that the squirrels have actually been leaving the peanuts we throw to them for later while they gorge themselves on the pods. Would seem to be a luxury but unfortunately for them, the blue jays are quite happy to eat their share of the peanuts.

It was cold yesterday morning-crisp is a word my father would use and so do I, in his honor, and that's the signal the next phase of the journey has started. The darkness comes earlier now and the shadows lengthen sooner as the afternoons move on. 

Soon the winds will shift and more often come out of the north and pickup in speed and intensity and the simple joy of crunchy sidewalks on the way to the corner as I start on a walk will be gone as the animals and birds spend more time gathering and storing food with one eye fixed on the fall skies as a hazy shade of winter creeps inexorably closer.

-bill kenny