This am the temp was thirty degrees lower than yesterday. It is a bright blue, crisp Autumn-ish early spring day. Very slight breeze, just enough to tickle the oak leaves left on the trees. My neighbor continues to show off his pristine garage. I see bugs fly by my window. I notice how the tree that fell and was cut up last summer has settled in a bit, taking on his next stage of being.
I would like to be out sitting on some of those pieces of his trunk, but I'm here at my beloved purple desk looking out, a bit too shaky to take on much walking. I'm still sore from my last fall, which was dramatically at my doctor's office. His well-organized stainless steel cart with all his little doctor toys on it was a bit messed up, his magazines torn beyond more duty, my knees and arms bruised, but my pride required emergency surgery from which I am still recovering.
I have beans soaking ready to make an outrageous pot of bean soup to serve with spicy corn bread later. That should fix me right up. I've made a list for groceries, which I'd really rather get myself, but am having a lesson in asking for help. My husband will reluctantly disturb his day and go. (yes, that was written with a bit of venom) I'm taking a few minutes now to work on gratitude and stopping this time and energy-consuming self pity
Back to the oak trees. You know how their leaves hold on through the winter and then in spring look brown and wrinkled? I just realized they are beautiful. The ones outside my window now are not so brown as they are topaz dancing against the very blue sky. They are smaller, more curled up than they were last summer when they were green. They hold together in clusters. I can't see the little twigs that hold them.
And just now a breeze perked up and they laugh softly - perhaps at me. They don't care a bit about being old. And now the breeze picks up and one leaf lets go, eager for her adventure. The others applaud.
Here is my lesson. Here is my grace. Here is my gratitude.