10

The smell of October. It's death, mostly. Fragments of dead leaves permeating the air. And old men smoking cigars outside of high school football games.

I'm never ready for August to end. Or September. Darkness comes early, suddenly. Time drags me through October by the scruff of the neck. Some of it is pure and preference. Some of it's because I've always had a hard time letting things go. Why move or change when you exist in contentment?

Well, because nothing here stays the same. And what was good for one season may not often be good for two. And there may, even should be, good things to come. And because November smells like a big old iron wood burner and homemade chicken soup.

And it's just time. 

David Wheeler writes, "my neighborhood remained the far reaches of my childhood travels, and everything seemed so natural and obvious. You don’t realize the work it takes for a semblance of stability until you’re the one constructing it. I was always going, and then going away; and, I never really grew to appreciate my home, not fully, I think."

And so the seasons seem so natural and obvious. But how easy it is to miss the blessings along the way.

Lord help me to see and share, looking back with gratitude and forward with hope.

*** Please excuse the ugly date tag on some of the pictures.