A Lazy Sunday in Early November

November in South Florida is much different than it is in my New England hometown. Up in those parts during this time of the year, the air takes on a crispness. There is a whisper in the wind about the cold winter soon to arrive, the leaves are glowing in oranges, reds and yellows, the gardens are being covered over in preparation for early frosts and the long winter nap. While I can recall feeling a sadness at the loss of sweet summer afternoons spent outside reading a good book, walking and taking pictures on a Saturday with my Mom or just doing whatever seemed right on a wonderfully warm summer day, I also remember the wonder of ice on the trees, of the impossibly long icicles clinging to the eaves of my mother's house, like stalactites on the ceiling of a crystal cave (or are those stalagmites? I always get confused between the two...). Freshly fallen snow sparkles in the sunlight, leaves city streets quiet and more explorable, creates a perfect canvas for snow angels and "I love yous" written in footprints.

Here in South Florida, the voice of autumn is more subtle. Small, colorful birds are tweeting and flitting amongst the branches of the trees, along with other migratory birds with whom we don't normally have the pleasure of making acquaintance. The weather has become more bearable; gone are the days of 98 degrees and one hundred percent humidity, at least, for a short while. The beaches are, for me, a more comfortable place to visit than they were a month or so ago, when the hot sun would feel strong enough to sear me to a crisp. The Canadians and other "snow birds" (who I envy) are flocking here once again, settling in for the winter away from all parts cold and icy. I strain to hear the songs of fall wherever I can, for the turning of the seasons feels natural to me, the changing of the scenery in tune with my inner clock, and the absence of these things in a blatant manner is something I've never become accustomed to. My spiritual path, in part, leads me to a longing for the snow and cold that lead me down here in the first place (along with an ex-husband who had family here and whose dream it was to move to Florida-he lives back in Massachusetts these days). I have an inner need for a season of quiet and reflection, a season that I believe is possible but must be created with some effort when one lives in sunnier climes. One can embrace the slightly cooler weather with gusto, take the time to notice the different wildlife with whom we share the woods and our back yard, and tune into the energy of life which we all share.

Blessed is this season of autumn!