it’s that time of year again…

the insects are telling me so by their singing to beat the band here in the early morning light.  the air has that heavy stillness to it, the light is just so, a fraction of an angle of difference, everything is pausing before that slow but steady slide into fall begins.  this is my favorite time of year. 

spring is too much pressure, too overwhelming and ostentatious.  summer is too hyper and hot, and i never feel like i can just relax.  i don’t think i need to even mention winter.  but fall is just right.  it’s that putting your feet up after a long day feel.  in fall, i can just be.

and after the usual summer on speed, the beginning of fall marks a gradual retraction of the self from an external active version, to a more introspective, reflective person. i find myself sitting and thinking a lot, or more accurately, not thinking, but doing that thing you do after you’ve experienced something really intense, just sitting still and absorbing it, i guess.  letting it all soak into the right corners of the brain and the thinking, like water that reliably finds its way from higher to lower ground. i find myself sitting still a lot.  and during these times, of sitting and wondering at all that life is, i have found myself, of recently, it seems, always face-to-face with life in its most tiniest of forms.  minute spiders spinning webs no bigger than dimes, hurrying on microscopic legs across millimeters of space. dangling silk worms performing the smallest acrobatics off the petal of a drying flower.  an odd leaf, no bigger than my thumb nail the other day when i was tinkering with the door jam,left over from last fall, caught by the stem in a little spider web, dancing in front of my eyes on the hint of breeze. 

i find myself noticing clouds, as though they were sudden apparitions, something i’ve lived most of my life taking little notice of, but now seem to me as striking as a bright and moving painting across the sky. 

i wonder what it means, this noticing.

i can’t help but think i’m being shown something, as though if i wait and watch the rose as it opens, i will finally understand.  why we’re here.  what we are.  what is this place called life? 

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Author: Terry

Welcome! I am a Waldorf and unschooling-inspired homeschooling parent of three, ages 2, 4, and 7 living in the Lansing area of Michigan writing from the front lines of parenthood. Join me as I try to navigate homeschooling and bask in the craziness of life with young ones. Feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear from you! Thanks for stopping by!

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