Daily Grace, Presence

A Sudden Change in the Weather

September 2, 2023

Rain on my Japanese Maple tree this afternoon

The weather changed today.

Yesterday, it was summer.

Today, it is autumn.

It will certainly morph back into summer in the next few days. But for now?

Autumn.

It was autumn when I woke up, so I grabbed a sweatshirt on my way out the door this morning. Autumn and I had to think about what shoes to wear and decided against the closed-toed sandals that I’ve lived in all summer (They are closed-toed because my toenails are not pedicured properly enough to be out in the world. Trust me. Nobody wants to see them. Pedicuring is on my list of things to do, but work has been slightly sparse this summer, and pedicures are not high on my monetary priority list.) It was autumn, so I turned off the sprinklers in the front yard because it rained a little. Autumn and I took the cotton sheets off my bed and put on the flannel ones. Also my warmer comforter.

Autumn.

All the things I meant to do before it arrived are mostly still undone. I need to buy new work shoes. I need to get my firewood for next winter delivered and stacked and covered. (Weren’t we just worrying about fire season a few days ago? And those worries might come back, depending on what the next few months hold.) It’s time to order daffodils and poppy seeds and fruit trees that like being planted when the weather starts to cool. Also? It is about three weeks now before my son goes off to college. I think he has possibly one pair of pants that fits him now. We’ve got some shopping to do.

Autumn.

The fruit trees in town are heavy with apples, pears, and plums. An outside security camera at the community center caught a glimpse of a mountain lion strolling by at 3:45 the other morning. That’s just up the street from my house. Also, we know that the bear is back in town. He helped himself to my birdfeeder the other night. I thought it was a goner. My son heard a ruckus outside, but didn’t want to investigate. Can’t say that I blame him.

(Although at first he said he thought the snuffling he heard was me snoring. Rude!)

Luckily, though, the feeder was fixable after all. I now have an alarm set on my phone to remind me to go out every day around twilight: bring in the birdfeeder, it says. Because if I don’t, the bear will take care of it for me. And it might not be so easily fixed next time. And the birdfeeder is one of my favorite things.

Autumn.

I love it here. I love that there are bears and mountain lions and fruit trees that were planted decades ago by the folks who loved this town and made a life here after the gold from the mines ran dry. I confess that I am generally resistant to change, and always feel a little wistful when Labor Day comes and summer feels like it is officially over. This weekend of autumn weather was a gift, though: it reminded me of the things that I still need to do. Summer will be back next week (late summer, anyway). I want to open my arms, embrace those last days, and do what I can to get ready for what comes next. Because in a few weeks? Autumn will be back, and this time it will thankfully stay around for awhile.

Presence, Unpolished: Daily Examen

Kitchen Window Prayer

August 26, 2023

This was not my hummingbird, but the red flowers look a little like the ones in my garden. Photo courtesy of Pexels. Photographer Djalma Paiva Armelia, Sao Paulo, Brazil.

I did not plan to pray at my kitchen window.

I have a morning routine that I try to do. My Centering Prayer time most mornings occurs in the rocking chair in my bedroom after my bed is made, the cat box cleaned, and I’ve had a cup of tea or two. There is an order to these things.

Somehow, though, I found myself at the kitchen window the other morning. The ground was wet from the remnants of Hurricane Hilary that turned into Tropical Storm Hilary that brought beautiful measurable rain to our little town. So I went outside to sink my feet into the damp earth and filled up the birdfeeder and scattered sunflower seeds for the squirrels and also the bigger birds that have a hard time balancing on the feeder. Usually, the squirrels find the seeds that I toss out for them, but the ones they miss often turn into sunflowers. I have sunflowers of all sizes growing in my front yard by the birdfeeder, which makes me strangely happy.

I came inside and cut up the cantaloupe that had been sitting on the sink for a week or so and found a clean container to store it in. I washed the dishes from last night. I finally spiralized the zucchini that I had picked a few days earlier. It was a big guy and filled an entire container with zoodle type noodles. We will see how those zoodles taste. I made myself a nice breakfast: a little diced zucchini (from the parts of the zucchini that wouldn’t spiralize), with eggs and onion.

(I have been eating a lot of squash for breakfast these days with my eggs. Also eggplant. It’s what happens when the garden is growing like gangbusters, which is something my Mom used to say.)

Time passes when you stare out the kitchen window, watching a hummingbird find nectar from red flowers and then doing other ordinary tasks that fill up a morning. I didn’t make it to my bedroom to the rocking chair for my Centering Prayer time after all.

In the past, I might have felt bad about that.

But I am learning to think about my mornings (and my life, actually) another way. Especially mornings like that one. Maybe everything I did that morning was prayer: the zucchini spiralizing, the birdfeeder filling, the cantaloupe cutting, the dish washing, the breakfast cooking. Feeding myself, feeding Biscuit, feeding the birds. It sure seemed that way.

It was a lovely morning, and it was a treat to stand at the kitchen window and take in the cool and damp, weather unheard of for mid-August.  It would have seemed wrong to leave it, to ignore it, to go back to my bedroom and sit in my rocking chair and close my eyes. I would have missed all that light.

I did not plan to pray at my kitchen window the other morning. But I think I did anyway.