Almost every leaf has given up the fight and is settled on the ground cozied up for the winter, ready for the big transformation. The floor is a river of crunchy, slippery, foliage. Paths that were once coated so thick in brush are now freed up for walking and exploring. Moss that camouflaged its magnificence against the massiveness of summer is now shining in it’s glory. Little trumpets of lichen, puddles of moss in star shapes, expanding disks, and the tiniest trees you every saw. Gnomes land. Fairy villages. A rootless reminder that the green of the earth still remains, it just may hide for a bit.
Autumn brings us in, yes, but mostly it sets me on a wild rampage chanting, “must go out!”. The time is short before our breath is a fog and I intend on taking advantage of this slice of time before it’s too late. This year I do have grand plans for tiny snow shoes, and short little skis, but I am not sure what that will look like with a little one strapped on and a few wobbly, rubber legs by my side. But plans are plans are plans… and I like to make them.
After a week straight of sweet, loving visitors, and more excitement than a three and five year old can probably contain, they are playing so nice together. It is truly a sight to behold. I have put out less fires than I have started lately, (oh, wood stove humor…) and it feels like it should feel. It’s something about getting your cheeks pink with cold air and sitting by a crackling fire with a mug of something warm and a pile of books that just makes you get along. Please remind me I said this in February, and I will come back here and make strike through-s in all my sentences.
When things are so loud in this house of boys and the rain is coming down, or little balls of hail wont seem to let up, or the new chill in the air is willing us to stay in our pajamas, a little voice reminds me there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes and we slide on our rain pants or mittens or mud boots and head out anyways.