Oh how I feel like myself again this morning, readying
photos for this post! Feels good. Finally, I am blogging again. And
blogging, despite its airy quality, is amazingly grounding for me. Slowly,
slowly, I am arriving in my own life again, namely in my routine, rather than living the
whirlwind of home repair, festivities, holidays, socializing and kids home from
school.

I want to capture a perfect day with this photo essay – specifically, last Sunday, spent at our country property in northwestern Indiana. One day before the autumn equinox, it was blissfully warm, much warmer and sunnier than I had expected.

 

 

It was even warm enough to spread the blanket and fulfill one of summer’s commands: Lie flat on the ground and look up into the sky.

 

 

The sun burns my eyelids. Behind them, the world glimmers a
hot whitish pink. When I open my eyes, I look into the trees, still lush and
green.

Life is tremendously good when it is like this – savoring the last hot rays of the sun before it dips behind the trees. The scent of a wood burning fire is in the air; the crickets chirp, and a breeze swooshes the leaves. A train honks in the distance.

 

 

Bznn, a fly zooms by.
Zrr, zrr, crickets talk to each other.
Zhh, zhh, I don’t even know what animals that is.
Tok, tok, was that a woodpecker?
Boing, plop – an acorn drops.
Crack, snap, who is in the woods?
Is someone coming?
My son, or a deer?

 

 

Later, the shadows grow longer but I still have a spot in the sun.

 

The sun warms my toes.

 

 

The high grasses by the pond, straw-colored now and backlit by the sun.
You can see – fall is coming.
How I love the smell of burning wood! Summer’s clean up is in progress, and in the country, that means wood fires smoldering in fields here and there where summer’s debris has piled up.
My son tends to our own little fire for fixing “dinner” – utilizing the twigs and broken branches I gathered.
Why are the simplest meals the best? The sausage roasted over the open fire, the pita toasted on a hot brick. The charred sausage eaten right off the stick, and the pita warm in my hands, that is heaven.