I was standing in the kitchen. The light coming from the window was a soft grey. The patter of rain sounded softly against the windows. A feeling of happiness filled me as I lit a spiced pumpkin candle. The soft strains of Debra Fotheringham’s music blended pleasantly with the rain. My feet did a little dance of their own volition and I sang along.
I was so worried about this Fall. I was worried about keeping up the schedule. I was worried about getting the book done. I was worried about how the kids will do in school. I was worried if the book would even sell. But here I am on the first day of Autumn and all those things have passed. Instead I am happy. It feels like the holidays. Even my kids all noted that “it feels like christmas.” Christmas is a long way off. I have many things to do between now and then, but for today I am content. It is a moment of peace in the midst of my labors.
Tomorrow I will need to teach another creative writing class. Tomorrow I will need to clean house. Tomorrow I will begin sorting invoices for over a thousand book orders. Tomorrow I will continue editing livejournal entries for my book. Tomorrow I will write some fiction. Tomorrow I will begin working on the next Schlock book. Tomorrow I will work in my yard. Some of these “tomorrows” will actually be “later this week.” Some will even be “next week.” Some even further out than that. But for today I have peace and the scent of spiced pumpkin candle.
Glad to be a part of your autumn season in some way. Stephanie and I had our own little autumnal equinox celebration, complete with pumpkin bread, pumpkin candles, and imported cheeses. The fall is magical.
Congrats on the book sales. I hope they continue to skyrocket!
–Debra
Fall
In California, I have to enjoy the autumn in pieces. One kind of tree turns red in a blaze of glory. Then the leaves twirl to the ground, leaving that tree bare. Then the trees between my house and the school turn yellow and when I drive up the street on a gray morning, I look at the yellow trees against the gray sky and have my next piece of autumn. Then it is gone and there are still green trees intersperced with the bare trees and I know they will keep their leaves all fall and winter.
But this year I am back in Utah where I grew up. And I am hoping–hoping that I will get to see Autumn burst upon me with all the remembered glory of my youth! Is my memory faulty? Perhaps. But I am hoping anyway. Hoping to merge my old memories with new memories. Hoping. . . .