I actually cried a little bit when I walked outside yesterday morning. The air was so crisp and fresh…I just couldn’t breathe deep enough to do it justice.
So last night I made sure to throw my window open before I fell asleep, and today I awoke to the sound of the birds and the feeling of cold morning air moving across my face, unable to reach my body, warm beneath the quilt. It reminded me of something Donald Miller said in his book, “Searching for God Knows What”
“In the first moments after I wake up, especially in the Winter when I have left the windows open, I am quite taken aback by my existence; my hands, my eyelids, the feel of my feet rubbing against the blanket. In moments like this, I get the feeling that life is a great deal more complex than I am able to understand. I feel in these moments that I am fairly intricate and amazing; a speaker for a mouth, two cameras for eyes, sticks for legs, a computer for a head, a million sensors in a million places.”
That’s how I felt this morning.
The briskness of this Autumn air makes me restless. I don’t want to be indoors. I want to go for a walk in the woods and take long strides and look up at the trees. I want pretend I’m more than one-twelfth American Indian and gather acorns and bake acorn cakes over a fire. Does anyone have a recipe for that? I want to put away my John Denver CD’s (they always make me think of summer) and pull out the October guitar melodies of James Taylor.
Winter makes me nostalgic, but Autumn makes me hopeful. I don’t know what it is. Most people think I’m crazy. The impending snow and ice bring them the (North) Polar opposite of hope. Maybe to me, Autumn brings the promise of rest.