Autumn is Coming

Dahlin Dears,

Autumn is quietly tiptoeing in. A few big leaf maple leaves are breathed down when the breezes come along, breathed at a time When I walk down the lane with Mercy, our spaniel, I watch the lengthening shadows. The days getting shorter. My Southern girl body already needs a jacket or a gardening coat to cut flowers in the early evening. We harvest string beans, tomatoes (Both red and the low-acidic yellow ones), yellow squash, and corn from our garden and from the community garden, and then we sauté it all into a summer succotash.

A painting that inspired the creation of The Moon Lady from "The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder" hangs on one wall of the dining room. Before my sweet husband Tom and I sit down I madly rush to clear the table of my journal, date book, and letters in progress and I light candles. We have promised ourselves to sit down and eat dinner together whenever possible, to let it be a time to share and laugh and we call it a date.

In an attempt to quiet my life we have no television service. There’s no cable service here, and I am not going to pay a small fortune for satellite hookup, so the decision was made a little easier. Even with that, it’s not easy to live a deliberately slow life. I still wake up with a sense of rushing and have to calm myself because I can’t save the world, because none of us can vet the world. We can live a life so that we love others and are kind, we can do our best to help those who are hurting. We can slow down and sit with candles on the table and look at our husbands or children or wives, aging mothers and fathers and with friends and we can eat simply and look for joy.

This past week as a nation we lost Ted Kennedy, whom I was grateful to for his keeping the faith. As an individual I lost a friend from my childhood to a motorcycle accident. We went to college together. His mother was my mother’s best friend and his humor always reminded me of hers, a dry wit and sly smile.

The leaves fall from the trees, the hydrangeas are ready to bring in and dry. The heart must crack open again. It happens to me. It happens to Calla Lily in my latest book. It happens to us all. At the same time, the beauty of the forest and the tall, tall trees — the "green angels" I call them — border the farm, stand sentry, green all year long. Evergreen love. Nothing lasts forever. Is this just-breaking news? Will it make Fox News? I don’t think so. But news from the universe is always-breaking news, and it happens with our volume turned down real, real quiet.

From my garden to yours, I wish for you 84,000 Blessings,

Rebecca