Coming on gradually as “fading,” but waving it away as a thought that this just another fruit of my creative imagination on nearing fifty—the atmosphere in the different areas of my life shoots up to an unsettling chilliness while I feel that the earth is now holding its breath . . . waiting for something . . . waiting for the day when I would be middle-aged . . . just creating a candid metaphor .
I am beginning to notice now magazine covers from bookstore racks with articles like how to be a good lover, a good partner , a beautiful bride, how to be a happy mom, or how to look good at fifty . . . all the how-to’s and all I can ask is: Has there been a sign of life that existed for me before turning fifty?
Yes, I JUST TURNED forty-nine . . .
There had never been a time when I had to categorize myself as a “lost possibility.” The changes in growing older sometimes frighten me, I admit. And from my recent birthday, something to my mind affirmed my identity as a woman seemed to have just dropped away. I shriveled inside like leaves denied of the summer sun. After going through a recent heart-breaking experience; I thought that there was no more purpose for living and no more reason to expect anything from blowing away the best opportunity that I have. From that point, I know that I have another lesson learned.
I am entering a new season of freedom NOW where I know I don’t have to retrospect on images of how I should look or behave. What I know is that THIS SEASON is a new adventure and I have to embrace it and dance with.
Exploring my thoughts into those bright autumn spells that bring about the most vivid of hues; Cuddling next to the person you love most during those cold, crisp nights when the air has its own special vintage enticing us both to run down the furnace and add some more wood to warmth us, in our warmest embrace. Autumn is just a bouquet matched in no other season . . . a colorful scheme that blends the colors of my life.
I do miss AUTUMN . . .
This was the season to pack summer clothes and unpack the winter ones. I miss the smell of cedar chests with my cuddly warm sweater and thick warm socks. I long for the taste of hot cider or a roasted turkey through an afternoon outdoor grill. I think about the hazy, cloudless skies of a Pennsylvanian summer where leaves scurrying down the street before the cool breeze. I miss chilly mornings and glorious warm afternoons. My thoughts crave for dry corn stalks clattering in the wind. I think about the touch of frost on the grass and the window pane….I miss the smells of burning leaves . . . I miss my home . . .
I miss Newville . . . I miss PENNSYLVANIA
From the “Rails to Trails” to the crimson streets of the Amish—autumn right now spells color! The spectrum of shades between the green shades of summer and the dull browns, as if winter will really soon be there—just a combination of it all, makes my heart leap for joy. Fiery red, ruddy orange, soft yellows, red maples, yellow birch, scarlet sycamores, aspen gold . . . colors in transition, images of change, shades of beginnings . . . I think about them as I think of MY LIFE NOW.
This was how I saw and have seen this wonderful season for the first time. I feel such joy and beauty; such stability and changeability. I love this season, watching nature turn and engendering days of joy and days of melancholy.
Now gardens and all the earth have become my professors. I have now to examine closely the lessons about living and living what they are teaching. Yes, each season has its special work. The splendor of autumn is to gather in or preserve everything for the next season’ s ‘ seed.’ So for the same reason as when I harvested some tomatoes and pepper from the wide garden which had been my home last fall, I think about the produce my soul can grow in the summertime of my life . . . until which, winter shall nestle its own space in my heart.
This autumn planting . . . growing . . . and flowering is definitely over. Temperatures begin to drop and my days have become shorter. The natural world edges toward a halt and I am getting to the point where I desire what nature desires for my life.
I know that I have yet so many lessons to learn in life yet. And instead of looking back to what has been lost, I am beginning to look forward—patiently waiting until the next shades of autumn to come by knocking at my door . . .