“If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard…”
-L. Frank Baum, via Dorothy Gale
Fall excursion four, Trail Ride No, 3, was to have been tomorrow, based on the weather forecast reported last week.
Now, the updated forecast is for thundershowers.
Epic disappointment. Have you ever spent a day with an autistic person who has suffered a disappointing change of plans? This is a profound kind of disappointment – as if it is threatening, in some way – what’ll we do now?
Get out the whiteboard. Write out the feelings. Work it through.
And she did: my amazing, resilient daughter bounced back, changed her attitude and decided to get over it. Bravo.
Me? Not so much.
The expectation of Thanksgiving and the Christmas season is not enough to soothe my sense of loss when October ends. This year has been a skimpy one in the way of bright blue October skies. Today, it seems, is the last day this year with a shot at it – but there’s more “cloudy” than “partly” today, too.
For a few hours this morning, though, it was there.
I have lived in this town pretty much my entire life, and walked, ridden bikes and driven down these same streets for decades, yet each fall, each October, specifically, it still thrills me – sets my heart aglow, like the trees themselves, that seem to have the ability to exude light from within.
This morning was that day – when I realize that it isn’t really necessary to take a long drive to find that October joy; it is right here.
The photo at the top was taken in my own back yard. So was that gold one. Those below were taken within within a 2-3 mile radius of my home.
There’s a “toasted maple,” my favorite fall display, where the tree gets all purply on top but stays golden underneath.
There is the incredibly rosy glow of the maples uptown (that’s what we call our tiny but thriving “business district,” which until about 5 years ago had no restaurants (if you don’t count the breakfast joint that closed fifty years ago) but now has three.
There are the lanes lined with color leading to and from the bluff with views of the lake.
Not just any lake. Lake Michigan. A great lake, which only needs to be referred to as “the lake” for anyone living within 100 miles of it.
And a view of the park, where the huge old cottonwood finally had to come down, but was replaced with an expanded playground with that newfangled, squishy-bouncy stuff instead of the pebbles, or concrete, or asphalt, or, if we were lucky, the wood chips, of my youth. I spent more time on those tennis courts.
But here is autumn glory, just a walk, a bike ride or a short drive away.
I finally got my fix – my dose of October’s loveliness, ephemeral.
I’ll take it, and call it enough.
Trying, often failing but still trying, to live in the moment and focus on love and laughter, I remain,
Your loyal, sentimental, nostalgic, one-day-at-a-time,