The Long Preparing
I've always looked forward to autumn--it's by far my favorite season. When the mornings have the first nip of cool air and the leaves begin their subtle change to golden colors, I feel alive. My heart races and I have a deep sense of anticipation. Change is coming. Soon it will all be beautiful, inviting, a warm glow. And then, on the heels of fall, winter. A season for hunkering down, for drawing close to family and fires.
I always get excited about this time of year. But most years the anticipation of the next season is drowned out in the hustle and bustle of the current season.
This year has been different. Both because I've had more time to give and because the budget has to stretch farther than it ever has, this season has been one of preparation. I've taken stock of what we will need when the fall colors begin to fade and winter sets in on us: warm sweaters, slippers, house coats, scarves, blankets, hearty food... I've taken stock of each thing individually, assessing our level of need. And then, where we've been lacking, I've been setting to work. I've taken old flannel sheets and turned them into pajamas. I've pulled out remnants of yarn to make sweaters and slippers. I've poured leftovers and broths and beans into bags to freeze for winter soups. I've mended and shored up old blankets that have been loved and worn out.
I've absolutely savored the upcoming change of seasons.
I can't remember a time in the past when I've been so intentional about preparing for what was ahead (well, except maybe when we had each of the kids). It's hard to describe the joy, the satisfaction, the excitement of doing the hard work with my hands to provide for what we'll need in the coldest season of our year.
And it's not just that. I've felt a connection with nature that I've never felt before. Just as the animals scurry around gathering nuts and building up nests, I've felt a kinship with them this year. We've all been abuzz with the excitement of "next," and hard at work to make sure it doesn't catch us unprepared. I've savored the chill in the air as I've walked the dog in the mornings, letting it seep into my bones. I've let myself feel the natural world: warm sun, cool mornings, crunching leaves. Maybe it's an activity in mindfulness, or maybe it's a connection with the natural world on an almost spiritual level. Either way, I've absolutely lingered over this changing of the seasons.
There will be long, dark days ahead. Winter always takes a psychological toll on me. But maybe that's part of the beauty of this time: laying away little moments of joy and pleasure to be brought out when the skies are grey and the earth is frozen.
This long preparing, this working each day to provide, it's its own unique kind of privilege. And I'm so grateful I've discovered it.
I always get excited about this time of year. But most years the anticipation of the next season is drowned out in the hustle and bustle of the current season.
This year has been different. Both because I've had more time to give and because the budget has to stretch farther than it ever has, this season has been one of preparation. I've taken stock of what we will need when the fall colors begin to fade and winter sets in on us: warm sweaters, slippers, house coats, scarves, blankets, hearty food... I've taken stock of each thing individually, assessing our level of need. And then, where we've been lacking, I've been setting to work. I've taken old flannel sheets and turned them into pajamas. I've pulled out remnants of yarn to make sweaters and slippers. I've poured leftovers and broths and beans into bags to freeze for winter soups. I've mended and shored up old blankets that have been loved and worn out.
I've absolutely savored the upcoming change of seasons.
I can't remember a time in the past when I've been so intentional about preparing for what was ahead (well, except maybe when we had each of the kids). It's hard to describe the joy, the satisfaction, the excitement of doing the hard work with my hands to provide for what we'll need in the coldest season of our year.
And it's not just that. I've felt a connection with nature that I've never felt before. Just as the animals scurry around gathering nuts and building up nests, I've felt a kinship with them this year. We've all been abuzz with the excitement of "next," and hard at work to make sure it doesn't catch us unprepared. I've savored the chill in the air as I've walked the dog in the mornings, letting it seep into my bones. I've let myself feel the natural world: warm sun, cool mornings, crunching leaves. Maybe it's an activity in mindfulness, or maybe it's a connection with the natural world on an almost spiritual level. Either way, I've absolutely lingered over this changing of the seasons.
There will be long, dark days ahead. Winter always takes a psychological toll on me. But maybe that's part of the beauty of this time: laying away little moments of joy and pleasure to be brought out when the skies are grey and the earth is frozen.
This long preparing, this working each day to provide, it's its own unique kind of privilege. And I'm so grateful I've discovered it.
