Life and ....Fall?????

I can't start my mornings in a rush. It just doesn't work well.

I want to slowly wake up, ...snuggle somewhere and read for 30 minutes or so, ...select and put on what I'm wearing for the day, ...enjoy a leisurely breakfast, ...talk around the table for awhile and plan the day, ...finish making myself presentable...

...And finally hit the day "full force," as my older sister says.

This doesn't mean I am not a morning person. I love the morning! If you want me to be rearing to go, and ready to "hit the day" at 7:00, no problem.

I'll just wake up at 5:30.

I must have those extra hours at the start of my day if I want to "feel right" the rest of the day. Don't you love those quiet morning hours, of slow thinking and warm feelings?

Don't you love the crispness that comes in the morning air? The glow of a new sun?

Today our morning started cloudy and dreary. No one could quite wake up all the way - not even after breakfast. If it hadn't been for my "early" rising time (that's relative), I would never have gotten much done this morning, because it would have taken me until noon to wake up.

Sometime around noon, the sun came out.

Not just "out," but gloriously out, full of cheerfulness. The sky is blue, with fluffy clouds. The air....

...the air is cool.

Cool!

When did fall get here?

I practiced my fiddle for an hour out on our back porch today. Dampness hung around my legs, along with buzzing mosquitoes. Around my face, soft wind puffed at strands of hair and cooled my skin.

I wasn't hot. ...But it was more than that. The air smelled different. Do you know that smell? It's the smell of dying leaves. It's the smell of cool, damp earth.

When did Autumn arrive?

The calendar doesn't even say "September" yet.

I'm torn inside. I'm sick and tired of my summer wardrobe. I'm eager for pumpkins, scarecrows, piles of leaves, fall apple festivals, bonfires, fall breezes, and cardigans and hoodies.

But I dread the death fall brings. I smell the leaves on the ground and can feel my lungs quivering with recognition - that smell that I hate because of what it does to my body. I look at the garden, beginning to die and turn brown, and want to cry. I look backward, realize "wasn't Christmas just last month?" and want to dig in my heels and find the brake pedal.

Life.

Why do I bother to analyze? Time will go on, no matter how I feel about it. I can't rush it or hurry it. But....somehow....half the enjoyment is in the thinking, ...the analyzing. It's like savoring a cup of warm apple cider. I'll drink it, one way or the other, but savoring it makes everything so much better.