Thursday, October 3, 2013

a pleasingly slow, steady progression


Monday, September’s end, I met my friend Sherri for our annual birthday lunch. We always celebrate together sometime within the vicinity of our five-day-apart birthdays. She’s one of the half dozen or so of my nearest and dearest with whom I share September as a birth month. The cafĂ© we chose serves Southern food, and we both ordered buttermilk biscuit sandwiches filled with fried chicken, bread and butter pickles, and mustard, dripping with honey collected from the restaurant’s beehives. We caught up on the past couple of months since we last saw each other; beginnings to the school year, an upcoming bar mitzvah, a successful tennis tournament. Our conversation dwindled as we sank into carbohydrate comas. We said our goodbyes, and drove to our respective carpool lines. As I waited, I closed my eyes in the warmth of the sun streaming in through the windshield.


We’ve had a pleasingly slow, steady progression from late summer into early fall. The days sparkle; some have a snap to them. Many nights I’ve gone to sleep to heat, and woken to the sound of wind moving through the trees, rain on the roof. Some mornings thick fog rolls in before our very eyes, and I squint to find the curve of the road on the drive to school. Not a day has passed without sunshine. The first of the leaves fell in a torrent onto the streets and sidewalks and our deck over the weekend as the wind blew fiercely and rain fell heavily. The gingko across the street has assumed its autumnal yellow.



We’ve watched squirrels working with great diligence and focus as they, well, squirrel away their supplies for winter.


Even though it’s been a month since school started, I still tend to mutter to myself as I make my way around the house midday, unused to the solitude.


Abbott is running cross-country on his middle school’s team. He is happy, confident, enthusiastic among his new peers.


I have trouble comprehending having a son old enough to be in middle school.


After school today, we walked down the gravel trail to the beach. The sun was at its late afternoon, autumnal slant, the air clean and cold. My peripheral vision caught a flash of movement, and when I followed it, discovered an osprey with a fish in its talons, furiously trying to work itself free of the death grasp.

I love it all.

10 comments:

Hannah said...

"I try to memorize it all." Isn't that just it. Beautiful musings - thank you for sharing. My favorite time of year, fall, and not least because it inspires this sort of achy-sweet feeling.

chai ling said...

always something beautiful to do when i read your words and admire your photos from my work desk. 4.52 pm now. will be off for the weekend in 30 minutes time. i love weekend as much as i l love reading your post. ha!

vanessa said...

Your writing is always so inspiring, encouraging me to slow down and appreciate each day more, and notice my surroundings with all my senses. I have missed your more frequent posts! I guess I need reminding more often than I thought I did. Thank you.

Denise | Chez Danisse said...

If you wish to memorize it all, I hope you do, but I sure like it when you write it down.

house on hill road said...

always beautiful, lecia.

Dawn said...

Such beautiful writing. xo

Anonymous said...

As always, visiting here gives me something to ponder, a resolution to look and really see, a determination to embrace the everyday...

With thanks, Jacqui

Theresa said...

Me too.

Kim said...

Thank you so much for your beautiful photos and moving stories! I love your positiv and optimistic attitude!

Lecia Phinney said...

Thank you all so very much. xoxo