October

 

I really needed to clean my house today.  And I meant to make soup.  But the clear song of the wind chimes lured me to the porch.  The gentle sway of the swing enticed me to sit.  I took a book with me, but it lay beside me unopened.  And thoughts of cleaning or cooking were lost in an October haze.

I have often made attempts to learn to meditate, to sit in stillness and calm my mind.  The closest I can come are those times in the porch swing, when the world is bright and the only sound is the music of the universe.  This was one of those times.

October makes up for August, which I would just as soon skip. Lucy Maud Montgomery, one of my favorite authors, said, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers,” and I have to agree.  We have been blessed with a weekend of halcyon days – perfect weather that makes up for the summer we endured.  It was a busy time in my small town.  A quilt show, a craft show and the National Banana Pudding Festival brought visitors to town in droves.  I went to a friend’s place Saturday night for an outdoor showing of a Simon and Garfunkel concert under the stars, with a sliver of moon peeping through the trees. Luckily Monday was another perfect porch swing day.

The lone maple tree in my front yard is brushed just slightly with yellow and dogwoods across the way are frosted with red.  The breeze murmurs secrets through the leaves and the golden autumn light strikes sparks off the sumacs at the edge of the woods.  Already some leaves are falling, too impatient to wait for their new colors.  The sprinkle of leaves on the ground will become a heap, enticing small children and dogs to burrow.  My mom used to rake the leaves.  I prefer to ignore them.   

The dogs sprawl in the sunshine, ignoring the distant barking of neighbor dogs and pretending not to notice the crows raiding the pecan trees along the garden fence.  Butterflies visit the last of the roses by the porch, and the mums reveal their blooms of yellow and gold.  The hummingbirds are gone, on their way to their winter homes, and the feeders hang abandoned at the edge of the porch.

Crows call and a mockingbird cheers.  In the distance, I hear the hum of a mower and the occasional screech of a hawk, patrolling for a late lunch or early dinner.  I cannot see them, but I hear squirrels in the woods, rustling through the leaves in search of food.   A few shreds of clouds float just above the horizon and a half moon rides pale in the sky, just visible against the blue.

I ignore the clutter of weeds in the yard and the tools lying unused on the shelf.  There will be other days to clear summer’s leftovers, other days to clean the house and make soup.  Today is a day to meditate on October.