*A Meditation on Physics

Remnants of Autumn

We did it. We really, really did it.  I took our Boston Terrier for a walk.  Big deal, you say?  On some days, after some periods of time, yes, it is a big deal.

I could have used any number of excuses not to go. It was cold.  The mountains were foggy, and the weather was overcast.  It looked like winter. I'm not quite ready for winter.  My muscles still ache from yoga.  I have excuses galore.

The miracle today is I overcame my physics problem; you know the one:  "An object at rest will remain at rest."  It's too easy to rest, and remain at rest.  It's too easy to take the path of least resistance.

As I made the turn on the corner, just past the Russian Olive trees, I was delighted to see the autumn colors in full force in front of the nearby condominiums.  The reds and oranges filled me up, and it was easier to ignore the fact that many of my favorite trees are now bare.

We spied the ducks enjoying what remains of the water in the canal, just sitting there in the puddles, taking it easy, soaking up this sweet time before the snow flies.  I could relate; I need to soak up this time, too.  I need to wring all of the goodness that is left in this passing season.

The raccoons had left deep footprints in the mud along the banks of the canal, their well-worn paths more evident as the rushes fade from greens to browns.  I strained to see prints from our favorite foxes, knowing they had been there, even if I couldn't detect their presence.

As we passed by the plot of land the city has declared a sanctuary, I noticed two brilliant red leaves beneath the olive trees.  I didn't see the trees from which they fell, and assumed some wind had whirled them a distance before dropping them here for me.  I took them for my own, to add to my collection.

I took in the fresh air; I ignored the sounds of the freeway nearby. This walking meditation may be the only chance I have today for quiet reflection and outdoor activity.  I'm so glad I didn't give in to the temptation to stay at rest, for now perhaps physics will work in my favor for the rest of the day:  "An object in motion will remain in motion..."

*Resisting Winter

If I could,

I would stand at the

ready

as each leaf falls,

and return the jewel

to its branch,

restoring autumn

to its perfection.

Time, like sand,

seems to slip

through our fingers faster,

the tighter we try

to hold onto it.

Resisting change,

just like resisting

the passage of time,

is such a futile act.

Winter will come, and

will not be stopped.

As soon as we embrace

each moment for what it is,

anxiety falls away, and

relaxation takes its place.

There is such perfection

in the present moment.

Frost will come,

and with it the

splendor of ice crystals,

glitter that glistens

like fairy dust,

as the sun dances

across the land.

Until then, the leaves will

slowly begin to rust,

and the trees will loosen

their grasp on the jewels

of the passing season.

To mourn this rite of passage

is as useless as wishing

to stop the hands of the clock.

We can cherish what is,

and welcome what is to be,

and be grateful for the

joys to be had in this

perfect moment in time.

*Shaking Off the Sadness of a Passing Season

I will be the first to admit that I had a bad attitude this morning. Maybe not a bad one as much as a slightly sad one. My mind felt troubled.  It didn't take long to figure out what the problem was.  I was not living in this present moment.  I was worrying about the future. Whenever that happens, mild anxiety sets in, anxiety and a little bit of depression.  

I had been watching the trees change from greenish yellow to yellow to golden to rust to bare all too quickly.  Life seemed to be passing me by.  Before I know it, there will be fat fluffy snowflakes drifting outside my window panes, and sweet autumn will be a thing of the past.

One of my favorite remedies when I find myself not living in the moment is photography.  Taking pictures forces me to be fully present, to notice the world around me.  I knew I needed to get outside and focus my lens and my mind on nature.  

I was afraid that all I would find would be confirmations of what I dreaded most:  the end of this beautiful autumn season and signs of the coming winter...bare limbs with the last straggling leaves clinging to them, or small drifts of snow. But the more I looked, the more I found to enjoy.  

As it turned out, I had TWO outdoor experiences today, one solo in the morning, and one later in the day with Marley.  I took my camera both times,  and soaked in all of the beauty around me...clouds and fog, leaves and limbs, mountains and trees, rocks and rivers.  I took in big gulps of air to clear my head.  I soon realized that by worrying about the coming winter, I was missing out on what is left of my favorite season.  

How often do we catch ourselves fretting over things that are not even part of our reality?  It is such a waste of precious energy.  I feel the need to chastise myself because not only is the coming winter not something to worry about, I love winter, too.  Part of me was concerned that I was not getting outside often enough to enjoy the pleasures of this passing autumn.  It seems so obvious that all I needed to do was go outside, but when we aren't thinking clearly, the obvious becomes shrouded in our confused thoughts.

How grateful I am for the moments I was able to have in solitude, and later, with my Boston Terrier. We need to enjoy every possible moment outside while we can.

My friend's field receives its final watering until next year.

The Old Church in Joseph

The Sevier River

I could look at these colors all day...

The foliage in Marysvale Canyon offers varieties of colors and textures.

Yes, I stretched out in the middle of the road for this shot!

Red Maples...my favorite.

Even the leaves seemed grateful for the sun today.

Our view from Cottonwood Canyon this afternoon.

Although some trees are nearly barren, there is beauty to be found in their simplicity.  I will continue to seek out these jewels of autumn until they are completely replaced by naked trees and snow-covered landscapes.  By then, I will be ready for winter, and all of the stark beauty she offers me.

A Photo Essay of the Farmer's Fields

Pumpkin patches and rows of corn...the time of harvest has come.

Autumnus Interruptus

Whenever I have plans, I am happy.  As long as I have something penciled in on the calendar, I am pretty easy to live with.  (Let's not investigate that too closely this morning, okay?)  So I was very happy to have made a little plan for myself for Friday morning. 

Here was my plan:

1. Drop Bridger off at school
2. Drive up Monroe Mountain
3. Take loads of pictures of the fall leaves
4. Find a pumpkin patch
5. Take loads of pictures of pumpkins

You know what they say about the best laid plans...  Thursday night it started snowing.  Not a blizzard or anything, just a light swirling of snowflakes falling from ominous clouds that nearly touched the base of the mountain.  I kept my fingers crossed as night fell with the flakes.

The next morning revealed no snow had stuck, but it wasn't the warm autumn day for which I had hoped.  THIS is what we saw when we drove over the Joe Town Hill.  Beautiful, but not very promising weather for heading up the mountain.  I didn't care. I had a plan.  My plan did not specify what type of clothing would be required to enjoy this day.  I had a heater in my car. I could still make this work.

Once Bridger and I had said our goodbyes and love yous, I headed for Monrovian Park, my kids' and my favorite place for fall pictures, and walked briskly down the trail toward the stream. The absence of my children was noted by my heart. One reason I wanted to take the pictures is to share our favorite spot with the big kids who have moved away. Dylan is in Saint George in the middle of the desert, and Sierra has moved to Denver. This might be the only way they could enjoy autumn in Monroe, vicariously through me. I wasn't finding large patches of colorful trees, but I found when I zoomed in on the small patches, my lens was full of fall foliage.  I was very cold, but I was happy.

By the time I had climbed to Monroe Peak...oh, excuse me, I don't mean to mislead. I would like to tell you I was hiking, but that would be a bald-faced lie. I was DRIVING in my heated sedan.  I just didn't want you to get the wrong picture. As I was saying, by the time I arrived at the peak, IN MY CAR, it was 30 degrees.  I stopped periodically to take shots of the vista, and closeups of the leaves. My fingers were freezing, my nose running, and my face grinning. I was so happy to be outdoors (intermittently) and to be driving up my favorite mountain while it was still autumn, calendar-wise, anyway.

There was a light dusting of snow on the road that seemed to be heavier the higher I went, which makes sense.  So in case you don't want to brave the elements, or worse, you miss the brief window of time that the leaves are still on the trees, I will share my shots with you.  Enjoy, in the privacy and comfort of your home.

Delicious Autumn

Well, September slipped through our fingers like running water, didn't it? Or is that just my perception because I'm older now?  The days seem to be whizzing by with much greater speed than I had anticipated.

When I was a kid, it seemed as if time stood still. I swear, I could watch grass grow the summer before I started kindergarten. Hours dragged, and days lasted eternities. 

When I hit high school, days were filled with homework, 4-H, church youth meetings, and family time. Weeks gathered speed. 

When I became a mom, months charged at me all at once. 

Now that I have retired, years are passing me by, all too fast.

One of my cousins shared part of an e.e. cummings poem on Facebook the other day.

a wind has blown the rain away and blown the 

sky away, and all the leaves away, and the

trees stand. I think i too have known

autumn too long

I love e.e. cummings, but I don't think I've ever known an autumn too long. My cousin was reading the deeper meaning of the poem, however, and it touched her.  True to form, I read it literally, and was touched, too. 

An autumn too long? NEVER. Autumn doesn't begin soon enough and it doesn't last long enough. In an ideal world, we would live in a tropical paradise full of trees whose leaves are in a perpetual state of autumnal splendor. 

Please don't bother to explain to me that deciduous trees are not indigenous to oceanfront properties. My ideal world does not bother with the particulars of science. (There are also details regarding calories and weight loss  in my ideal world which do not follow any current physical laws, but I digress.)

Now the following quote from George Eliot is more like the way I would talk about fall:

     "Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeing the successive autumns."

Seeking successive autumns would be the most sublime of pastimes.

October ushers us into the thick of fall. There is no shortage of recipes containing pumpkin, apples are filling cold storage units everywhere, and a hint of caramel will complement any dessert of the season. Harvest displays full of pumpkins and gourds welcome us into the grocery stores. School hallways are bulging with fall leaves and jack-o'-lanterns.

The weather is cooler. Sandals find their way deeper into closets, as sensible shoes that cover our toes surface once again. T-shirts and shorts are replaced with hoodies and jeans. The lighter fare of summer salads gives way to the heartier soups and casseroles of autumn at the dinner table.

Now if only we could figure out a way to make these autumn days S-L-O-W D-O-W-N. Pumpkins, fall leaves, scarecrows, corn stalks; all of the gifts of harvest time make me feel so nostalgic. I want plenty of time to enjoy every delicious change as it comes, and I don't want to miss a thing.