I love the substitution of the towel. Considering the colorful leaves and orchard apples and the wonderful fall sunsets, I get this little thrill.
Entering the new season means leaving out the old.
I wash the dishes tonight, looking out of the window at the evidence of the fall’s policy. (Washing dishes is really the right time to wonder and dream, right? * Wink *) I’ve been staring at that window for years and years, and I’ve washed an enormous amount of dishes in there. When I have my own family activities for a month, I can no longer wash dishes there. I don’t dance wildflowers or watch the sunlight shine on the pond.
This indigenous person has woven into my heart – “The Evergreens”, which I lovingly referred to in my pre-teenager, Anne-of-Green-Gables-obsessed years (though I admit I was fascinated with Anne!). So many memories here. I love American road farms, woods, and the United States. My little garden. My birch tree, “The White Lady” (extra Anne-inspired names!). Leaving all this is like trying to unravel the knitted threads in my heart of hearts – it hurts.
When I go behind the places I love, I don’t go behind the people I love. I don’t throw away memories. Memories are like family all the time.
The old season fades lightly, and the new one begins to unravel, an exciting adventure with its unique charm, if we have eyes at its best.