I look forward to October all year long - those spiced cider days brimming with golden light and leafy gusts that make your heart race and your arms reach out. Everything is full and bright and balanced on the edge. September's heat and bugs are gone. November's dusty decline is still almost a dream. October is my touchstone.
But this October was here and then it was gone - trips and weddings and busyness. Life took over and we tumble-jumbled through my favorite month. With all the push and pull of work and travel, I hurried us through our days, raising my voice much too often, directing the where and when with too much authority and too little grace and gentleness. Frustration was our constant house guest - mostly mine, sometimes hers. And now, as our days get shorter and our rhythms are returning, I hope for the calm and the quiet of the season, simplicity over excess and gratitude over obligation.
There were moments though, this crazy whirlwind October, when we left dinner unmade and turned our backs on the clutter, when all the to-do's and should-have-done's fell away. We stayed outside for hours, crunching in leaves and looking at clouds, our pockets full of acorns and seeds and forgotten things. We dug through the remnants of the vegetable garden and the withering flowerbeds and watched cardinals fight over space on the birdfeeder. There were moments, though far too few, when we drank in the season and felt full and bright and balanced on the edge.
