First Day of Fall

There's something very comforting about the return of autumn, something calming and reassuring in the cooling down of the season.  As summer's heat abates, so does a certain amount of chaos when the beginning of school ushers in a certain level of order and regularity.  

Many people have favorite associations with fall; one of mine is ripening pears sitting on a table, to eventually be enjoyed some evening with a glass of port and some good gorgonzola or cheddar.

Fall faves:

• Apple picking at mountain farms; baking pies with those apples.
• Wearing tartans, scarves, sweaters; wearing fall colors in shades of chestnut, pumpkin, garnet and gold
• Kicking my way through multi-colored leaves when I take a walk
• Snuggling in next to a fireplace with a nice cup of tea or hot chocolate
• Cheering on my alma mater's football team

The photo shows not only some lovely pears ripening in the bowl, but also a few pieces of luster ware, bright with coppery and gold decoration, rich in the fall colors of ripening, fruition and harvest.  The feel of history  glows under my hand when I pick up the luster pieces and use them, reminding me of autumns long past when they were loved and used by others. Fall reminds me that all things must end, seasons of life change, and I need to let them go and move on.  Acceptance with joy reflects the fullness of this season.

What are some of your fall favorites? 

The moon is waning tonight, and even perhaps rattling in the sky like a "fragment of angry candy." Another Friday night alone.  One of my friends who has been through a divorce told me how lonely the weekends used to be for her.  I get that; what should be a time to spend with my beloved has turned into a gaping canyon of nothing, a darkening horizon. One thing that the divorce has done is to bring forth a lot of poetry; here is today's poem:


Waning Moon, Wasting Love

World weary.
Though not the world's weight
Pressing on my chest
Pressing on my heart
That makes it ache so.

Heart ache:
So apt, the term, so apt.
A physical pain, a genuine hurt
That manifests itself
In every joint
That breathes from every pore.

My mind tries to wrap around the emptiness
As my arms once wrapped around you.
I love you still, but in yesterdays.