Fall is my favorite time of year. I don’t know if it’s the crisp mornings or the lingering days of Indian Summer. I always seem to slow down in the fall. In a good way. Summer flies by. The river floats, BBQ’s, camping trips, and other fun times seem to all blend together. One minute it’s 4th of July and the next, Labor Day has passed me by.
As the crosswalks become less crowded and kids go back to school, I find myself paying closer attention. To the first frosts of September. To the gradual changing of the leaves in October. To the angle of the sun as it hangs a little lower each day in the afternoon sky. Fall’s onset doesn’t come all at once. It creeps up slowly. A long forgotten, but ever familiar friend, whose memories always occupy a space in my mind.
As the summer occupies my thoughts with what comes next in immediacy, fall’s a time for contemplation of matters more complex and ethereal.
No, I don’t spend my days waxing poetic about ideas too ideal. But I do pay attention. To the natural world as it begins its slow, but wonderous descent into winter. There’s work to be done in preparation. A sense of urgency, yet an unhurried pace that’s deserving of notice and appreciation.
As I make the transition from 7-irons and birdies to birds and bird dogs, I find myself spending time with my thoughts. There’s a comfort to be found here that’s all too often scary to sit with. But, fall. It’s rhythms and routines allow that space to be welcomed instead of feared.
It’s in that space that I’m inspired to write, to do my best work. To sit on the edge of the words my fingers produce. To explore new dialects, structures, and phrases. To be ok with first drafts. All the while knowing that I never get it right the first time. Or the next. Or even the next. Eventually though, the finished product will be something I’m proud of. For my clients and myself.
I think of my parents and elder friends. In their autumnal phases. Still full of life and vigor. Sings of age and faces weathered by so many falls before might be cause for solemn for some. For me, it’s quite the opposite though. All at once, fall provides a time for contemplation of what’s been, how things are supposed to be just as they are now, and an appreciation for the time that’s left.
‘Tis a wonderful time of the year. To be still. To notice the small nuances of the world and others around me. How they’ve shaped who I am and who I’m becoming. As a person and a writer.
As the days become shorter and the world prepares itself to be thrust into the frigidness of winter, I find peace, stillness, and gratitude. I’m grateful to share the stories of those around me and my own. Through writing. To continuously work to become better at my craft. To give others a voice. To further become a lover of the written word.
