Wednesday, November 26, 2008


gold, ochre, bronze, copper, fawn, chestnut, pumpkin, burnt umber, rust, sienna, gray, celadon, brown, ash, mahogany, olive, tan, wheat, flax, sable, ochre: the colors of the hillside palette today.
little dell is deep sap green with bluish undertones, the water casually rippling with the slight breeze, shimmering in a deep autumn way, quietly and gently, the light lifting upward but not bouncing as it does in the heat of summer.
the leaves are gone, dropped and blown away, and the tall grasses still reach skyward and flux with the movement of the air where they haven't yet been flattened into an uneven carpet by the early snows.
not surprisingly, it is quiet; the few cars that pass by are sedate today, no engines charging or brakes squealing, no mufflers chortling. no chipmunks or squirrels performing death-defying acts of asphalt racing, not a deer to be seen. or perhaps these creatures are blending so perfectly with the golden land that they are there, watching us humans, safely ensconced in their burrows and blinds and content to observe our antics.
I breathe in peace and exhale discontent. I still ache to ride forever, away, away from discomfort and frustration and disappointment. how much peace and solitude and awe can I breathe into my body before it outweighs the heaviness? how can I expel the heaviness when it won't seem to lift from where it has settled, somewhere deep within my bones?
I breathe in golden hillsides and shimmering water lit by the mid-day sun, and I breathe in dry, expectant air, full of patience as it waits for the coming change. perhaps some of this patience will remain with me, help me straddle the heaviness as I reach for the airiness of the coming season.
soon it will snow and this beloved landscape, full of bronze and copper and straw-colored swaths, will disappear beneath a deep coverlet of white. we will all adapt, from the chipmunks and raccoons to the deer and elk, from the eager skiers to us reluctant cyclists. we will all breathe, we will all move through the season of still whiteness, of hibernation, of renewal.
I will breathe in peace, and exhale deeply, releasing all that is ready to be let go.

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