Seasonal Adjustments

It’s an odd paradox that tightening the faucet on busyness, opens the flow of creativity.

Here in the northern hemisphere, September brings a gentle turn of season. Shadows fall long on the earth. Daylight eclipses towards the heavy-lid slumber of approaching winter.

There’s a sense of slowing, a sense of closure.

Thoughts of baking bread, making soup, and embracing pen to paper come to mind—quiet moments to reflect and behold.

Recently back from a family trip to Montana and Wyoming, I pause now and remember the vast sweep of open sky that stretched so wide it conjured up feelings of being embraced by the Almighty’s outstretched arms. Something like unconditional love.

Suddenly life seemed uncluttered and ordered with meaningful purpose. The fragments of daily distractions gave way to feeling more complete. In the spacious lay of the land breathed a reverent restored wholeness—an inhale of being put together again.

Open ranchland extended all the way to the base of mountains. Hay bales dotted the landscape in rolled barrels and rectangular blocks of golden grasses that marked the hard labor of the culminated harvest.

And the wild uncultivated grasses of the wilderness were just beginning to turn with the sienna and burnt umber and ochre of autumn.

And heavy-branched bushes bore the deep burgundy, black, red, and blue of huckleberries, raspberries, and cherries that bears stripped voraciously before the long sleep of winter.

And the rivers and streams flowed transparent and ice-cold in their blue-green descent from the high holy places above the meadows.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.
—Norman Maclean, “A River Runs Through It”

There’s a calm in the pause of this glorious season… full as the berry-laden branches plump with ripening; deep as the clarity of streams tumbling over rocks; humble as the grasses laid bare before glaciers.

Thanks for stopping by.