October 22, 2012

Enjoying the Autumn Sun



Dear Bloggers,

Soon the holidays are coming and autumn is all of sudden there. The weather is a bit funny. Some days stormy weather is bashing on your windows and a day later you can walk around in a shirt as it is nearly 20 degrees Celsius. Anyway I am enjoying the beauty of the landscape that is passing by. 


Autumn colours are so beautiful. And this fall we have been blessed with a couple of sunny days and more than only a few rainy ones. The air is getting crisper and you can smell the lit fireplaces through the chimneys. I love that smell. It means winter is on it’s way.



I love autumn, for so many reasons, and yet it invariably manages to make me sad, I find that autumn turns the still pool of my nature to the very dregs, and kicks up all sorts of murky stuff while it is at it. Coals slowly turning into diamonds, the moon is trapped beneath a branch, and, like the coming winter, it can also cut to the bone, winter winds that twist and turn and are hard to evade.


A series of disappointments that a few years ago I would have either sublimated into hard physical work, or run away from, or sunk deep into and found it hard to get out of again.  This year seems to be different.  I am simply sitting with my feelings, even it feels impossible. 


I saw a butterfly today on my morning walk – a red admiral that settled on the muddy footpath, churned and turned by some farm vehicles. It flittered about, close to the earth as though weighed down by care, and couldn’t seem to lift its way up into the open air, and then it settled, opened its wings to the sun and waited. Just waited. And I waited with it. The sun seemed to fill it, to renew it, colours achingly bright on its wings, and then it picked itself up and flew away, looping and twisting over the fields into a new day.


Perhaps that is the lesson that I need to learn here? To open myself to love and pain in equal measure, and trust that whatever happens, the sun will always shine and I will always be able to pick myself up and move on. Autumn proceeds slowly, hedgerows turning golden in the sunlight, berries picked up by the birds as they prepare for winter. Sometimes it is hard to appreciate all this beauty around me, but it is always there, regardless, just waiting for me to see it once again and to know myself a part of it, connected to the land even as my feet walk upon it, my mind is a million miles away.


Accomplished a bit of Sunday cleaning today, vacuumed the house, rinsed the toilet and got myself ready for the evening shift. Last night I lit some candles. When I pulled the curtains as it was dark and wet outside.  “Hmmm....autumn is really here” I said to my wife. “Poked up” our central heating system and during the day I took the water ornaments out of the garden and stowed them in the shed. 



It’s getting too big for me to pack em all up about every year, so it’s going to a new home as soon as we sell this one and hopefully next spring we’ll live in a smaller home. It’s not that I’m getting too old to carry a big ugly chunk of machinery through the house. It’s not that. I just don’t know what is going to come. Maybe we need to change our garden plans. I really don’t have a clue. I see it as a waste of my time and energy.


Fall is settling into Friesland. The sun is lower in the southern sky, too tired to heat things up anymore. It’s cold enough outside that you could wear a jacket without sweating, and yet still warm enough to walk around without a coat at night. I know because we just got back from a nice little walk to the mailbox in the village centre which is just north of here by about ten minutes. There are already a lot of desiccated autumn leaves blowing around and the grass is still green in every yard. 


It is the in between season as we all know that in a couple of weeks this year will come to an end. The holidays are sitting at our front door and the garden is ready again for Christmas as the lights are installed again.

We are ready for the holidays, it is only a couple of weeks away.

The Old Sailor,


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