Today the sun casts its great warmth down on another day of our remarkable autumn, one in which the colors have lasted longer and been more resplendent than we can remember in quite a while. At once I wonder if this is really true: after all, every Fall brings some visual delight. But these past weeks we’ve been walking and driving in roadside tunnels of vibrant colors, and at the moment, here at the picnic table, the outside is warmer than inside, and the trees sport their lovely leaves against a cloudless sky.
I’ve been meaning to write for weeks now, but rabbit holes of poetry had to be run down first. The desire to write here began back at the Queen’s passing, when I found myself pacing during exercises for unfreezing a frozen shoulder. Five times and counting to fifteen, I had to hold a towel over my left shoulder, and use it to pull my right hand up my back. It became comfortable to count and pace, pace and count: that’s when I found myself thinking about the Queen. Perhaps it was her horse that inspired this, that move when he pawed the ground at her passing. Or it was all the somber steps so many took to follow her to the Burial rite, or make their way to pay their own respects. And although we know her long tenure saw conflict, injustice, even personal heartache, we remember her devotion to duty, too.
But back to today, and its wonderful warmth, and the small step of remembering I took: to dig into the bin of stuffed animals, now seemingly known as “stuffies,” that lives on Floor 2 of our shed. The Texan grands I’ll be visiting next week have requested some of these residents. Penguin (not ‘Sharkie,’ he’s too big), Tiny the Elephant, and a small version of dentist Dr. De Soto have been treated to a makeover. And, in taking a break to find the blodger that digs the hole to plant the bulbs, I found an ancient Tigger: pull his tail, and still the music flows.
All this remembering, at-home leaf peeping and writing in the sun makes me want to shed my boots and find a cold drink. The dog is chewing on a new stick, the laundry on the line is already dry, and it would be a good time to phone a friend. Small moments and small steps can bring us large memories. It’s good to hydrate, look up, and give thanks.
from the smallest 