i woke this morning to one bright star and couldn't help but feel like she was watching me from those billions of miles away. She was out and brilliant at a time when all, save the very bravest, stars have begun to hide from their big brother, and so i felt she must have been there for me, braving the threats of an imminent dawn to wish me well today. All around her the black of night was retreating against an oncoming shade of deep blue and her friends and family had disappeared for the day—yet there she was, still holding on and shining bright (was there belligerence in her presence? A little kick back against a bigger, brighter star closer to me?). i feel the well wishes of this new day and, were i to wear one, i would tip my hat to my star this morning and say "Thank you, ma'am, for your courtesy today."
It looks to be a glorious day.
Could an Autumn day be other than glorious? The world is alive with fire every fall.
All summer long we hear of fire destroying homes; fire burning up hundreds of thousands of acres; fire claiming lives; fire as this horrific force. Then Autumn happens and fire suddenly becomes a magic of the season. It lights up the trees; burns every leaf and we bury ourselves in it. Right now Autumn is burning, and we couldn't be happier.
i can only hope that the warmth and color of the trees holds out for our drive down to Owego. i am thrilled at the thought of speeding down through the belly of those hills and the world ablaze all around us.
And the smell of that burning! The ripe scent of apples. Of crisp fall grass. Of leaves in the air. Of dew and deer and everything Autumn!
i love this season of the year and you in it. May this be the year of the greatest leaf pile our home has ever known, and us (all five) flying through the air toward it.
Did you notice the tree with a query the other day? The one with the question mark for a crown? I am curious to know what he was wondering. Do trees wonder? I know they don't wander, but do they wonder (and if they do wander i perhaps don't wish to know about it—i may never sleep soundly again) (wait, i never sleep soundly anyways). Trees are, afterall, alive right? In some measure isn't every living thing sentient? And so wouldn't that allow for some measure of thought? This particular tree seemed quite heavy with its thought.
As humans we are what we eat, they say, so perhaps a tree is what they think? No, that doesn't make any sense unless the tree was thinking about a question mark.
i will imagine that, given the sparseness of the trees needles and the yellowing of a few patches (not browning as is often the case with pines), we were dealing with a tree quite heavy with thoughts on the burning of Autumn and the stubbornness of his coniferous family. i mean it did seem quite possible that this tree was trying to burn off its needles as a Maple might its leaves. It was a pine tree bent on celebrating the season and wondering why it was typically left out.
Or maybe it wasn't even trying. Maybe the tree was so absorbed with its thoughts and questions about the Autumn burning that its crown bent into a reflective punctuation and its body began to defy natural order and burn on its own.
Perhaps.
How awfully odd is nature sometimes.
What a glorious thing to be alive.
from peter
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Location:Neverland
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