When it Rains

It is raining, again, and I say out loud to myself what a beautiful…, no, that is my affirmation every morning, but in November I mean it could be snowing.
Larissa and I drove down to Waltham, MA on Wednesday, and the clear Maine skies became heavily overcast as we travel south. As I drove, I remarked at how brilliant the foliage colors were, to that Larissa suggested that I remove my sunglasses.

Last week, several touches of frost reminded anyone who hadn’t brought their potted plants in that they should have.

I am not a fan of hunting, so I secretly hope it doesn’t snow for three and half more weeks with temperatures hovering above freezing and the days remain dreary, somewhat like Seattle.

Another limb tore off the big maple that borders the road in the front of our home. The house, crushing limb’s descent spared the power cable and the house, and now I have another fall cleanup project. I am considering reinstalling the wood stove.

This year I decided to tackle the furnace servicing, and so far, I have successfully replaced the fuel filter.

Today, I have time to myself. Tomorrow my father-in-law turns 80, and as I sit at the dining room table wondering why I am relating these mundane moments as my eyes rest upon a framed photograph hanging on the wall between the cellar door and the stairwell opening.

I like the picture; it captured how I feel when the chill wind of December permeates my best attempts to stay warm. I admire the futile efforts of those clustered leaves refusing to join their fallen comrades. However, this photograph captures the end of a productive summer and a dying in preparation for rebirth. Is that a gift I expect to be joyfully received?
At this moment, I have decided to send this story to Jed and ask how he feels about the message this picture imparts, but first I need to ask myself, is this a masked attempt to ingratiate myself?

Of course, it leads me to explore my intention and underlying motivation to share my vision or a cruel sense of humor that exposes what I think about the aging process.

What comes to mind now that I have dug deeper into relating what I feel is knowing that life is more than a moment static in time. What I love about Jed is not compared to seasons, but a landscape comprised of feelings and experiences not static, but living moments that reside within our eternally youthful hearts.