One Wild and Precious Life

Back to the Garden

What a fabulous weekend this has been!  Finishing my sermon by the close of the day on Thursday makes a huge difference; I don't have it hanging over my head on my (usually) 2 sequential days off.  And of course, the weather has been perfect -- 60s F with some clouds, but mostly sun; perfect weather for gardening.  Friday morning one of the guys from church came over unexpectedly (the one that cleared out one jungle bed in my back yard), and was showing a friend my gardens, in anticipation of digging up some of the dozens of black walnut trees that the squirrels so helpfully planted in my flower beds.  Walking around with them, really seeing the state of things, just made me sick.  I had many tasks to do on Friday, but Saturday was a different story!

Saturday I spent a half hour or so in the veggie garden, transplanting beautiful little strawberry plants from the path where they don't belong, into the bed that I enlarged last summer (many of those summer transplants died of neglect, so now is my second chance).  There is still a bit more room in that bed, so I'll do more of that before the frost (I hope -- that may come this week!).  Then I really tackled my front beds.  I spent a couple of hours pulling out only the very tallest weeds -- goldenrod and such -- and lots of the invasive wild clematis.  I also decimated a few clumps of grass (yes, clumps of grass growing in the perennial beds).  I trimmed up the suckers on the big maple tree, and cut out a wild honeysuckle that annoys me no end.  Maybe I can get the aforementioned parishioner to dig that thing out by the roots (interwined as they are with the maple roots) -- but at least I had the pleasure of lopping it off clear to the ground.  Oh, it was satisfying, and at the end of the day I had that familiar hitch in my gitalong that comes from lots of bending and pulling and carrying armloads and wheelbarrow loads of weeds and sticks out to the weed pile and fire pit.  Of course, I could see the difference, but as I tried to view those beds with more objective eyes, I kept thinking that if others saw those beds, they'd only say, "How poorly kept these flower beds are!"  Sigh.  But I confess I turned on my front porch light and walked outside last night, just to see the difference that I wrought with my very own two hands.

Today I agreed to adopt another kitty.  I've always had cats, but my last one died two years ago, shortly before I left for Italy.  A parishioner is moving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (WHY, in God's name???), and can't take her cat.  Today she asked me if I'd take it (and all its supplies), even if just to find it a good home.  Inexplicably, I found myself saying, "Yes!"  Well, my dogs, as I've probably told you, have been longing for a kitty.  They've been asking me to get them a kitty for months, now -- ever since one (or more) of the cats next door had a litter.  They stand in the chair by my study window and whine as they watch those kitties frolicking.  And this kitty seems like a good bet -- declawed (and I don't even have to bear the guilt for doing it), spayed, all her shots.  An indoor/outdoor kitty, I think.  And both my dogs get along ok with kitties, so we'll see how it goes.  I hope it's a bold kitty that will train them to have good kitty manners, rather than a timid one that I can merely pity and quarantine to the upstairs.  All I have to do is decide how to keep the dogs out of the cat box and cat food.  Our new family member will move in sometime this week.  Someday I'll tell you the story of how I changed from a lifelong cat person to a dog person.

And another happy thing happened today -- I worked for a couple of hours on the veggie garden.  I've been carpeting the paths (I have those lovely, timber-lined, raised beds that I made this spring) with newspaper and covering the paper with the abundant wood-chip mulch that is from one of my big maple trees that were taken down this year.  It really looks tidy, and takes care of all the ragweed that has flourished in that garden for years.  And the nice thing is that, since I subscribe to the newspaper and have such a huge pile of mulch, I can do it over and over again, whenever the mulch and paper break down.  After I used up my current supply of newspaper on the paths, I threw several wheelbarrows full of mulch around the outside of the fence.  I have this very poorly maintained border around the outside of the veggie garden, designed to keep the blasted weeds and grass from creeping in through the fence from the outside.  Of course, I have grass and ground ivy (how I hate that stuff) creeping in all around the edges, because I don't keep it up.  I still have one long (35-foot) side to mulch, but it looks so much neater!

We had such a hot, dry summer (despite days of rain, we're still on water restrictions, including no outside watering or at-home car washing), and I did very little work in the gardens for months.  I forgot how very good it feels.  I forgot how I want to walk around after dark and in the morning, and see the good work I've done.  I forgot how the resultant aches and pains remind me of what good work I did.  I forgot that feeling that must be a little like God felt, walking around in Eden in the cool of the evening, admiring God's handiwork.  Tonight I've got that.  I think I'm going to take a short stroll by the veggie garden, and survey my 10 feet of new path, and my 30 feet or so of newly-mulched border!  This weekend's work has reminded me of how soul-feeding, how soul-necessary it is for me to work in my gardens.  Now visions of manure and mulch and pruning are dancing in my head once again.  There's much to do before winter sets in, and I'm anticipating it all with great delight!

More good gardening news:  the horticulturist I met at the farmer's market called me -- she and her husband decided not to move out of town, and she's looking for work.  I'm going to use her as a "gardening coach" (I guess that's what the cool people have these days) -- to come and work alongside me every week or two, but also to advise me how I can make these many beautiful flower beds more manageable (including eliminating some of them -- I have two in mind for transplant and destruction!).

The other thing I did this weekend was to revise my study schedule for the Haden Program (my training for spiritual director certification).  This revision was to compensate for how dismally I've fallen behind my original work assignment plan that I made in September.  I've devised a reading and writing schedule that seems to be working (just finished another required book -- only 7.5 books and 4 short papers to go by mid-December), and I'm confident that, even though I fell behind, I can still complete all the course requirements by January, when I'm due to graduate.  Of course, that means I've got to stop this post right now, so I can go do my reading and some work on one of my papers.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Halloween!

The RevGalBlogPals have a ritual known as "Friday Five."  I'm just learning a bit about this group that I joined, but like the tone of these five questions, different ones each Friday, and so will answer them:

1.  How did you celebrate this time of year when you were a child?

Oh, Halloween was a lovely time!  My mother liked to make my costumes.  The ones I recall most vividly were: ballerina, Medieval/Renaissance lady (complete with conical cap with soft, flowy fabric coming out the top), Martha Washington.  But each year until I was at least eight I had something different and creative (my mother was very creative, and a LOT of it got channelled into ME!).  I always went trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, collecting massive amounts of candy, homemade goodies (those were the days before the worries), and even some pocket change, for those who didn't buy treats.  I also got a few red delicious apples, which I have always hated.  As a young adolescent, just beyond the age of trick-or-treating, my friends and I would go out with scraps of soap and soap windows.  Such fun.  Very inconvenient, but relatively harmless, and easy to remove with water.  Not like graffiti.  Then a bit older, I often had a slumber party for 10 of my girlfriends on or near Halloween.  We would go to a local field, steal the field corn (aging for animal feed), and "corn" the houses of people we didn't like.  That involved flinging handsful of corn kernels at windows, where it made a delightful, frightening clatter.

2.  Do you and/or your family celebrate Halloween?  Why or why not?  And if you do, has it changed from what you used to do?

I really don't celebrate Halloween anymore.  As a young adult, I used to go to parties, often making up costumes.  One year I went as Artemis, complete with filmy tunic and bow and arrow.  But I drove in too many blizzards on Halloween in Buffalo, and eventually gave it up.  After seminary, I lived in a village where children still came door-to-door, and I bought a witch's hat and a hollow pumpkin for treats.  I had fun figuring out treats that would be approved by parents, but still enjoyed by kids.  Glow-in-the-dark stars, handed out by the handful, were popular.  Here I'm on a highway, off the beaten path, and have no kids in my parish.  So I don't get kids calling on me.  I tend to celebrate "Fall" more generically, and sometimes buy mums and pumpkins, always have a big straw hat with (artificial) fall mums on it that I hang on the door.

3.  Candy apples:  red cinnamon or caramel-covered?  Or something else?

Caramel, definitely, though I don't eat them at all these days.  If I do anything, it's hot, spiced cider (recipe below).  If I buy a tub of that caramel stuff, I'll just eat it all, and I don't need to do that!!!

4.  Do you decorate your home for fall or Halloween?

Yes.  See above about my pretty straw hat.  No pumpkins or mums this year.  My geranium from summer is coming back, and I don't have the heart to replace it.  And orange would clash terribly.  I don't do specifically Halloween, but I found (way in the top of a cabinet) a little ceramic ghost candle-holder, which I got out this year.  I also have a beautiful crystal cornucopia that I often fill with small gourds and tiny Indian corn.  I don't have it out yet this year, but it's not too late -- it holds me over till Christmas decoration time.

This year I will be "preaching" a children's sermon on October 30 at a local Christian School sponsored by the PCA (conservative wing of Presbyterianism).  The headmaster is great, though.  Several years ago I got in trouble for encouraging kids to bring pets to the blessing of the animals on St. Francis day -- apparently some people believe that animals can't be blessed because they "don't have souls" (please!  my dogs most definitely have souls, and in our church we even bless candles and palms and water, for goodness sake!).  Anyway, apparently the teachers had to set the kids straight on this theological principle, and I wasn't invited back for quite some time.  I'm so very tempted to preach about Halloween and All Hallows' Eve and All Saints' Day, and how Halloween, far from being "the work of the devil," is more like a holy time for honoring mystery and those we love who are no longer with us.  More controversy in the Bible belt -- stay tuned!

5.  Do you like pretending to be something different?  Does a costume bring out an alternate personality?

Nope.  It's hard enough just to be authentically myself.  I don't like costumes or costume parties at all.  As a kid, they were fine, though the masks were always incredibly limiting/ blinding/ uncomfortable.  I'm just a big Halloween spoil sport.

BONUS:  Post a recipe

I'll post two.  For spiced cider: a gallon of fresh-squeezed apple cider (hard to get here in Tennessee, but hard to avoid when I lived in Buffalo).  Put on the stove on low, and add 2 sticks of cinnamon, 4 whole cloves, and maybe 4-6 whole allspice.  Grate on maybe 1/4 of a whole nutmeg.  Keep simmering it on the stove till it all disappears.  YUM.

Here's something really special: how about Persimmon Pudding?  The prerequisite is that you go out and find a wild persimmon tree in the country (hint for those in Western North Carolina, I know where at least one is at Kanuga Camp & Conference Center.  I'll divulge the location for a small fee).  You wash off all the wild persimmons you pick off the ground (NOT the tree -- if they haven't fallen, they'll be so bitter that you'll be puckered up for hours -- try it!).  Put them in a food ricer, or you could use a colander and press them through with a wooden spoon -- good luck.  Get pure persimmon pulp, and proceed on to this recipe, from an old boyfriend's mom (oops, I see she got it from a newspaper, but it's delicious):  Mix together:  1 cup persimmon pulp, 2 well-beaten aggs, 1 cup milk.  Sift together (I don't sift, only stir with a fork for a while):  1 cup regular flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, 3/4 cup sugar.  Stir liquids into dry ingredients.  Blend into mixture 1 Tablespoon butter (melted?  the recipe doesn't say).  Pour into well-buttered pan.  Bake at 325 degrees F for 1 hour or until done.  I think I used a 9" square pan.  It has been 30 years, probably, since I've made this.  I've never used those big, fancy, Japanese persimmons in the grocery store, so I can't imagine if they're the same.  If you're lucky enough to get real, wild persimmons, the pulp can be frozen.  I've got some seeds, and will probably plant some trees.  Funny how when I get older, and have fewer guarantees that I'll be around for the harvest, I'm also much more patient and willing to plant things that take a while (like my asparagus).  Persimmon pudding comes out cut in squares, usually, like VERY mushy brownies, and is good with whipped cream or ice cream on it.  YUM.

Another Very Good Day

You know, when I run, it's always a good day.  Even when nothing really spectacular happens, It's a good day.  Currently I'm happily in a stage of minimal resistance to the run.  I find that some mornings I'm absolutely excited about running, some mornings I'm perfectly happy to take those doggies out for the 2 miles, and some mornings I'm absolutely looking for reasons not to go.  These days I'm excited, and I'll enjoy the wave of enthusiasm while it lasts. I suspect the cooler weather contributes to my enthusiasm, but I never know why, for sure.  I just know some weeks are easier than others.  This summer I increased my time to 35 minutes, and now am considering another increase, to 40.  Twenty minutes in, and 20 back home -- I think I'd like it, actually.  I can check on the developments in the new housing development where I run (not much traffic, which the doggies and I like, though they've recently learned the command, "Over!" to get out of the road entirely when traffic is coming).

I'm trying to catch up on my reading for the Spiritual Directors' certification program I'm enrolled in, the Haden Institute, and I've done some good reading today.  I'm trying to finish Thich Nhat Hanh's Going Home, and reading a few heavy, intense pages a day of Karen Armstrong's Battle for God.  I'm behind my original plan, of course, but I still hope to get all my work finished by the planned graduation date of January, 2008.  Not many students do.  So far this weekend, I've had delicious and inspiring reading periods, with music and my little indoor fountain on, to distract from traffic noise.

But there are other things.  My run was spectacular.  I've eaten well -- my homemade minestrone soup for all 3 meals -- does that sound obsessive?  I've done some gardening.  I've pulled up a lot of ragweed (if you keep pulling it, it grows smaller and weaker each time), and made plans to mulch.  I've found volunteer brussels sprouts, which both makes me happy and makes me smile, as the early spring harvest was a flop, due to caterpillar worms.  I suspect the cooler weather will control those pesky pests.  I'm harvesting this unusual fruit, don't know the name.  My hills and hollers neighbor introduced it to me, and then I found it sprouting in my strawberry bed.  The pods look like little Japanese lanterns, sort of (I'll try to take a picture tomorrow) -- and inside are these delicious little fruits.  I've been eating and eating them.

I need to get the strawberry plants out of the garden path (which I will then mulch with newspaper and the wood chips from my beautiful trees that were taken down this summer), and put them into the enlarged bed I've made (so I can enjoy several quarts over the spring season, and maybe some in the fall, as well).  I need to get some wire to string up my two thriving grape vines.  But pulling weeds, eating wild fruit, and (yesterday) harvesting herbs and the last tomatoes for my first fall homemade soup, was a pleasure.  Can you see why my perennials go begging?  I love the flowers, but my passion is in the veggie garden.  Maybe tomorrow I'll get more done -- that's always my hope.  Looks like I won't be driving to Nashville to visit parishioners with heart surgery, so maybe the garden can happen (between the requisite nap and Rick Steves on PBS).

Then late this afternoon I decided that it was time to burn the fire circle/trash pile.  I regretfully threw "Old Blue," my front porch rocking chair (rotted in 2 crucial places) on the pile.  I'm a sissy/very impatient about fire-starting, though I think I could light a Girl Scout-approved campfire, given enough time and planning.  I threw on some kerosene (less volatile than gasoline -- a parishioner taught me that) and lit it up with kitchen matches.  Everthing went up beautifully, especially given heavy rains the last few days, so I didn't have to worry so much about errant sparks.  I dragged some fallen trees from the overgrown patch behind my back yard, and they mostly burned, as well.   At midnight, there's still some good burning going on (just out to check).

Being in the moment is particularly delicious, it seems, in the autumn (can you tell I'm reading Buddhism for my SD program?).  There's not a motel room available in the whole county, reports a friend -- because the leaf-peepers are here.  Unfortunately they're a week early (or the leaves this year are a week late -- beautiful now, but spectacular next week), because though we've got some color, the best is clearly yet to come.  I tried to capture some shots on my morning run, but the color didn't come through.  More tries to come.  But you know, every single day is good when I can manage to "be in the moment," and I've had fair success lately.  My morning pages help.  My reading reinforces it.  My meditation and running also help -- it's hard not to be in the moment running uphill!

Tomorrow I don't preach on the lectionary (I vary only on one week per year) -- we celebrate St. Raphael's day (officially Oct. 24), and read different readings (Tobit being the most notable -- from the Apocrypha).  Raphael was a messenger, a healer, and the patron of "felicitous meetings" (singles love him).  Aside from a skit for the pledge campaign, I'll preach very briefly about Raphael.  This year I'm most taken by the inexplicable presence, in 2 different verses (Chapters 6 and 11, for those of you who care), of a dog, who travels along with Raphael and Tobias on their journeys.  There's no explanation or context for the dog's appearance, but the faithful canine companion is just there.  I don't think there's anything quite like it in all the rest of the bible.

I've had nearly 3 days off work (some thoughts/obligations did intrude, though I submitted with pleasure).  I finished my sermon on Wednesday this week.  It all feels good.  If you've been praying for me, it has worked, for sure.

Here's a bland, much-burned-down rendtion of my spectacular bonfire tonight:

Mmm, I wish it wasn't so late.  I'd go out there for another hour or two.  But now it's off to bed, smelling of wood smoke.

Spiritual Type

I took this interesting quiz here.  And here are my results (big surprise -- NOT):  You are a Mystic, known for your imaginative, intuitive spirituality. You value peace, harmony, and inner silence. Mystics are nurtured by walking alone in the woods or sitting quietly with a trusted friend. You may also enjoy poetry, meditation, wordless prayer, candles, art, books, and anything else that helps you connect with God. Mystics experience God best through rich images and symbols. You are contemplative, introspective, intuitive, and focused on an inner world as real to you as the exterior one. Hearing from God is more important to you than speaking to God. Others may attribute human characteristics to God, but you see God as ineffable, unnamable, and more vast than any known category. You are intrigued by God's mystery. Mystics want to inspire and persuade others, and need to live lives of significance. At times you push the envelope of spirituality, helping the rest of us imagine who we might become if we followed your lead. Sometimes you may feel a bit guilty about your need for solitude and silence. If so, you probably have bought into the American myth that says being alone and doing nothing is lazy, antisocial, and unproductive. Stop it -- now. Give yourself permission to retreat and be alone. It's essential for your well-being. On the other hand, don't get so carried away retreating that you become a recluse. That only deprives the world of your gifts and deprives you of the lessons that come from being with others. Some Mystics may have a true vocation for solitary prayer, but the rest of you need to alternate retreat time with involvement and interaction. Famous Mystics: Thomas Merton | Enya | John (the Gospel writer) Brother Lawrence (Practicing the Presence of God) Desert mothers and fathers | Charlie Brown Sister Wendy | Phoebe Buffay | Julian of Norwich Luke | Anthony de Mello | The Who Read about some Mystic Saints

Skunk Boy, Reprise

This is pretty unbearable.  In 2005 I started a novel for NANO (National Novel Writing Month, the month of November) entitled "Skunk Boy and Beauty Queen."  Beauty Queen was my own beautiful Clementine, and "Skunk Boy" was my faithful companion Buddy.  He has, both fictinally and in real life, a fatal attraction for skunks.  Both in his present and his past, he can not resist chasing skunks.

Tonight he has fallen victim to his obsession once again.  We have such a variety of half-wild cats in our yard that I don't go crazy when he goes running off, barking, in the direction of the woods.  It's only now, after our last nighttime walk, that my eyes are burning.  He has encountered the wrong end of yet another skunk.  My eyes and nose are burning.  I've been coming down with a cold all day.  I can't even finish Inspector Lynley on PBS (just listened to Elizabeth George's newest on CD).  I hate it that my eyes, nose, and lungs are now burning.  He just ran downstairs, and I pray he wasn't on my bed.  It's a different smell, more like garlic than before, but I hope I can sleep.

Bless my Buddy, who has not one ounce of common sense.

Curse his fatal attracton.  Off to my bed, where I hope things are calmer.

Autumn

Once again, my typepad "assign multiple categories" setting doesn't work.  This isn't the first time it has happened; sometimes I wonder why I actually bother to pay for a service that doesn't do what it promises to do.

Technology notwithstanding, I look back this evening and am amazed that it has been nearly two weeks since I've written here.  Even though the temperatures have been in the 80s every day, fall has definitely come to the Plateau, and that means a busy time in the church biz.  Somehow my dance card has filled up in amazing ways, and I'm not only writing less, but I'm reading the blogs I've bookmarked less often.  Ah, for the leisurely days of summer.

But tomorrow is Columbus Day, and I will take it off.  I tell my parishioners that I (religously, in a manner of speaking) take all the secular holidays off, since I have to work on all the religious ones!  So perhaps I'll get some reading done, among other things.  And Tuesday the weather promises to break, with rain and more autumnal temperatures forecast.  We sure could use the rain.  Still, I have had my air conditioning off and windows open over the past week, and even though I sneeze more, I like the fresh air blowing through my house.  I have one of those cheap box fans in my bedroom window, and like an attic fan (only less intense), it pulls cool air througout the house, once the temperatures fall at night.

I've noticed that a shift has happened in my food life.  Even though the temperatures are still conducive to grilling outdoors (over charcoal -- I don't use a gas grill, though I've considered it), I have lost my desire to do so.  I have been whipping up a variety of delights on my stovetop again -- I guess shorter days call me to indoor cooking.  I've had two batches of pasta with my frozen, homemade pasta sauce (it's great to cook the pasta just short of done, then drain and throw it in the simmering sauce to cook for the last few minutes), and last night I poached chicken breasts (I actually think it was two boneless, skinless halves) in white wine, and ate one (okay, one and a half) last night, and the other half tonight.  Yum.  I had breaded them with homemade breadcrumbs (I freeze bits of bread that are "on the edge," and then periodically grind them up in the food processor) seasoned with salt, pepper, and dried oregano from my garden.  I thought the wine might make the bread crumbs soggy, but actually, it didn't.  But my energy has shifted to creating in the kitchen again, and it actually feels good.

We have a little foliage color here and there, but not much to speak of.  I think our desperate drought has caused lots of leaves to dry up and turn brown -- but we're not at peak yet -- next week and the one after will be peak times for us.  But of course, everything else is doing what it should -- summer flowers have gone to sleep again (except my roses, some of which are out for a rare 2nd bloom), and the other flower colors are gold and purple and brown -- appropriate for fall, and beautiful to my eyes.  My veggie garden is ready to tear out and put to bed for the winter (time to haul some more cow poop from the stockyard), with rosemary and tarragon that I want to somehow mulch and coddle and see if it will winter over.  And I need to make the decision whether I will transplant a bunch of stuff this fall to the fencerow (where the big trees were removed), or if I'll work on preparing the soil and do the transplants in the spring.  Advice?

Yesterday I blessed the animals in honor of St. Francis (his day is the 4th of October -- 2 years ago I was in Assisi on the 4th!).  Not much turnout, but I neglected to publicize it -- I'll do better next year, if I'm here, and not in Italy.  It's not like the parish demands it -- I brought it with me from Buffalo -- but I have a soft spot for St. Francis and his love for the created world, and especially the tradition of blessing the animals on that day.  Do you know he was the originator of the creche/nativity scene at Christmas?

I've had some problems with my ankles, knees and hips when I run lately -- and have curtailed my 2 miles per day accordingly.  But I realized in the last week or so that it was because of bad, worn-down sneakers, and so until payday I wore some cheap but newer ones (purchased late spring when I visited Indiana), and now I have new, good, Asics sneakers that leave my legs and hips feeling fine when I run.  I'm glad to be back to stirring up the endorphins each day -- every day I run, I know will be a good day.  When I don't run for a time, it might be good and it might be bad, and often I'm susceptible to some minor depression.  So I keep running.  The dogs love it, too.

I didn't get the Lilly Grant that I applied for.  That's a serious blow to my sabbatical plans.  But I have another grant application out, though I don't really expect to get it, because I suspect it's even more competitive than the Lilly Endowment.  After a period of disappointment, I've begun formulating "Plan B:" to spend 4 weeks in Italy in 2008 (3 weeks of vacation and a week of continuing education time), scope it out (it's twice as much time as I spent in 2005), and then delay the sabbatical for a year or two.  Instead of 3 days centered in Venice, Rome, Naples, and Palermo, I'll have 1 week in each city.  I think I could do a better job of educating the parish on why clergy (me) need sabbaticals (though some folks will never learn nor care why I might need one), and also how the parish can benefit, as well (flexing its "lay ministry" muscles and growing them stronger).  While I'm disappointed in the necessary change of plans, I'm not beating myself up (as I could so easily fall into), and accepting the competitiveness and arbitrariness of grants.  It's really okay.

Besides the animal blessing, life in the parish has picked up considerably.  I'm teaching an adult forum on the Eucharistic prayers in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.  That requires some preparation.  The parish dinners have resumed.  People have been in the hospital with some sort of gastrointestinal virus that is "going around," which has required more visits and networking with the pastoral care team.  Planning for Advent is already on my mind.  October is our annual pledge campaign (I refuse to call it a "stewardship campaign," because it's only one small part of true spiritual stewardship), and that takes time and energy.  Plus, I'm falling behind in my reading schedule for the Spiritual Direction program.  Whew!   No wonder I'm feeling more rushed.

Dream from last night/this morning:  I am sleeping with Eleanor (my daughter who died in 1983), and her head is on my shoulder.  I turn my head and sniff her hair -- that little-girl scent.  It's very unusual for my dreams to contain a scent.  I say this prayer of thanksgiving as I lie there in my dream:  "Thank you for this."  Merely a dream, or a gracious visitation?  I know what I think.  Another dream fragment:  I am lying abed late -- I see it is a quarter to 8 -- talking to an old boyfriend.  Suddenly I say, "Oh, my God, it's Sunday morning!" [our first Sunday service is 8:00)  I awake at 3:45 am with such an adrenaline rush that I can't get back to sleep!  I got some planning and writing done during those dark hours.

Today I am simultaneously rejoicing in the increase in energy and activity that autumn brings, and grieving the passing of those lazier days of summer.  But at least there's not the serious depression I experienced in Buffalo, when I knew that 6 months of winter were to follow.  Before we know it, Advent (the preparatory, anticipatory, but only minimally penitential month before Christmas) and the Christmas season will be upon us.  I do love the fall.  Take some time today -- and every day -- to appreciate the beauties that each season and each day bring.  I'm doing it, whether it's the colors of my garden, the last, sweet song of birds who are soon to depart, or the fox I saw run across the highway the other day.  Pay attention!