Fall's arrival is apparent. The colors are changing, leaves are falling, temperatures are cooling, birds are migrating. The school bus routines of neighborhood children seem to be established again. Mark did the final lawn mowing of the season and we drained the sprinkler system while the neighbors winterized their swamp cooler. Mornings start now with the furnace kicking on before we get out of bed. This is a season of transition and preparation.
I journal inconsistently -- sometimes fifteen pages within a few days, other times not a word for weeks on end. It evens out, though, to around six months per notebook. I have begun, each time I fill one, to sit with it awhile before adding it to storage, taking time to ponder what is represented within its pages. And as I start writing in a fresh notebook, I pause to ponder, too, what I know and don't know about the coming months. It is a time of transition and preparation.
The start of November, especially this year, is a time of transition and preparation. Looking back and looking forward, I have a distinct sense that the next six months will be a significantly shaping time. Whatever it holds, I want to encounter it well, and to come out the other end betterly different.
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