when copper leaves fall

When copper leaves fall, I hear winter whisper ice. Specters loom near of empty-limbed trees and barren months. Melancholy comes calling.

But I hold her at arms' length, leaning into rhythms of the calendar's turn, the steadfastness of the liturgical year. 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Looking neither ahead nor back, I receive this day's blessings with gladness.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #351-374

the return of Family Dinner, table for 13
good-natured laughter and becoming known
red wine season (Wait, is that not a thing?)

crunchy topped muffins, warm baked by Jim
spicy pumpkin soup with coconut, lime, and still-fresh basil
pumpkins on the porch, ready for roasting

the Fugitive Mud Run at camp and
the kids' godfather in town all week to set it up
old friends back to run and lend hands
900 adults remembering how to play like children

rainy playdates
lunch al fresco all the same

warm mugs of coffee
loose tea steeped and steaming

brand new Mumford & Sons
and Avett Brothershappy sigh.

James rockin' himself right out of diapers
his new uniform: shirt/hoodie, underpants, babylegs, and quite often, Dylan's shoes

babes in rain boots
chickens pecking
hues of gold and fire

turning over new leaves as they fall
embracing autumn like a new year, an invitation to discipline and change
31 Days to Practice Peace (more on that soon)

What is blessing you this weekend?

Shared with Ann and the community at One Thousand Gifts.
Amazon affiliate links. As we do:) 6E6BC48ES6TU
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