Autumn In Home

There is no prettier place to be than Home in the Autumn for this little shorebird. I leave the ships to their captains, for I am content with the rhythm of the bay's tide. This is time for reflection and the gathering-in beside the hearth fire for the stories. If we walk between the trees in the misty morning, the wind will let them whisper to us what they have seen; open portals and frame our memories, if we greet them bravely.




Contrast, instead of conflict, in the world of Nature. Colours blend...and fall, as comrades in the experience. Wild is the Garden, yes. For something to live, something must die, in eternal cycle. We could learn a lot about grace from the trees as they let go their colours and fly. Oh, for the acceptance of the standing ones!






Rajani, our ebony princess, runs through the leaves and lens. She is pure joy on four legs. It seems like yesterday she was as small as Kim's Kona and now she's fourteen months! Just under ninety pounds of unconditional love and service for Anna, in a red collar...my wee grandogger.







Autumn is coloured with the red of fire, spirit, and honour. There are many good people who work hard for a better world every day, just in their being and doing. Often they're not heard, like small leaves that seem to disappear at the feet of trees, into the forest floor. I gather my friends in the Fall and appreciate their stories. Pictures flow in of Autumn around the world...and topsy-turvy Spring down under.

Red is a blaze of glory, an open heart and flame. Red prayer-ties hang with red berries in bushes and all roads are lined with henna rusted from cedars, like Mendhi drawn on a bride. Red on the right for returning...red for remembrance...red blood, the sap of you and me.








Red is both grace and sorrow, passion and peace. The Autumn sun back-lights a maple, dressed for the moment, reaching for the wind and their next dance.

Time to light the hearth-fires in Home. Time for last gifts from the gardens of friends. Time to prepare for the gatherings of remembrance and giving of thanks. Time to store the cupboards...and cup the stories, sharing all in our neighbourwoods.