I love the month of October. It always makes me cry.
Maybe the sense of things soon to be out of reach, gone or blown away, but somehow still pregnant with presence, still here, waiting for us to just once, finally, come on, just notice.
The sense not so much of losses or leavings but of quickening change, of shifts in the underlying fabric of life, of things fading in their natural course and new things coming.
Perhaps it’s the crisp white-cobalt sky, the Maxfield Parrish blue when the atmosphere has been cleansed of summer hazes and washes towards the crystal clear windows of winter.
Could be the feeling of being too late in the season, or yet too early, or too darn wet, or dry, or windy or cold or hot or all of the above, to begin endeavors of any consequence, and it’s best just to sit back and let the zephyr winds tumble and slide across the landscape upending every plan.
Regardless of the reason, it always feels like a good cry, of healing and presence and comfort. October seems to put things into perspective and ready us for new beginnings.
So I’m paying attention this year once again to the sights and sounds and feel of this delicious month. Happy autumn!