Porch #153 🍂 Autumn in New England

celebrating this season's gentle rhythm, its compelling rhyme, its steadying cadence, its awaiting invitations

‘time in New England took me away 
to long rocky beaches 
you by the bay
we started a story 
whose end must now wait …’
- Barry Manilow

Fall shimmies on in, slow and graceful yet persistent.  And even though I usually drag my feet when it's time to bid farewell to summer, I'm welcoming this fresh season with a good measure of serendipitous enthusiasm and wide open arms. 

The sun is shining all golden and warm, a cool breeze makes its way through when the clouds float by, the birds are going crazy feathering their nests, their songs often insistent, sometimes fleeting.  The leaves around here stubbornly refuse to don their autumn hues yet being out and about is an absolute pleasure.  

A brisk morning walk never seemed so delightful, so right, so welcome.  A late afternoon stroll down the beach so mandatory, so therapeutic.

I don't know about you, but I've been through lots of transitions that I never want to experience again.  But autumn's gentle rhythm, its compelling rhyme, its steadying cadence, its awaiting invitations?

These are the transitions that breathe fresh life, that kick off brand-new routines, that open doors to long dreamed of opportunities that wait around the next corner.  These are the graces that let you know that the earth keeps spinning, that life goes on, that all will be well.

We're experiencing it here, now.  It starts when we awake.  Instead of throwing off the covers, we reach to pull them up closer and linger in the cozy overnight cocoon we've created for ourselves ... even as we vow to dig those gently fraying flannel sheets out of the back of the closet and get them tucked over and on to the awaiting mattress.

I’m starting my days donning the warm, fleecy robe that was my Dad’s and wonderfully fuzzy socks instead of a tee-shirt and shorts.  And when I stumble to the kitchen, I’m grabbing a favorite mug to brew a 'hot cuppa' rather than reaching for a glass to fill with cold water.

I leave the oven door open after pulling out a cobbler made with the last of summer’s peaches, just to get a bit more warm air in the room.  And when I head out the door, I’ll grab a scarf or a sweatshirt, just in case.

I’ll be digging out the crockpot instead of having my husband light up the grill.  Candlelight is emerging once again, starting at suppertime and soothing us with its warm glow and gentle fragrance as the coolness of evening descends and another day comes to a close.

And as we chat back and forth, catching up with the day's details, we realize that our nightcaps are slowly but surely morphing from ice cream sundaes into steaming mugs of hot cocoa with whipped cream on top ... and we’ll be hunkering under an old quilt or two.  

I'm leaning right into it all.

Sights, sounds, scents, tastes ... what speaks autumn to you?
Linda

P.S.
To our friends down south who’ve been impacted by the hurricane … I’ve been imagining what you’re going through, praying right now that you’ll find our kind and gracious God ‘round every corner as you navigate this trauma. Please click the blue button and tell us how you’re doing, how we can best support you, and how best to pray for you and yours.

Everyone else, that’s where you can hear the hearts of our kindred spirit sisters and brothers. And leave your own unique autumn insights that are coming to mind.

PORCH
A CHRIST-CENTERED
WEEKEND NEWSLETTER
gentle conversation & calming snapshots
uplifting linkage & occasional surprises
for those who delight in doing life
in the company of kindred spirits

🔗 Paula . Joanne . Andrew . Joanne . Lynn