Orange is the new Pink

My life has slid into fall in such an unusual way.  Orange.  The color has been prominent.  Donovan must have 3 orange t-shirts.  Now my red load of laundry is nearly half orange as orange has lately been a favorite color of David and Weston too, not to mention myself... and what with Grandma Meltebeke’s old swirly hand towels, I nearly need an orange load all to itself!

The other morning the whole horizon was orange-peach with the sunrise.  It was harvest time and something in the air made for the most glorious light outside, we had to investigate before breakfast.  One of my students later told me she thought there was a fire, everything was so red outside.

I’ve been happy to see the weather let the colors happen this year. Two years ago was so sad when everything went instantly brown and died suddenly.  The slow passing is so much more glorious and gives time for contemplation.  ‘Course, we’ve also been blessed with warm days and not until this week has the frost started to bite.

My fall has been full of putzing in a way I’m so grateful for.  I’ve canned tomatoes and pickles and had time to work on voice over projects for my family.  I’m taking an art class in drawing and spend much more time reading than I have in years.  I’m into five books right now: Telling the Truth; the Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairytale by Buechner (for the fourth time) -- faith and art text; The Spirit of Food (which I’m reading with Mom and Carol Wall) - loaded with food stories and recipes; Mansfield Park (which I was reading with Mom until she already finished it) - love it, and it’s a good exercise in complicated sentences and Victorian prose; My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok (for the second time - text for drawing class) - an incredible story of a young Jewish artist; and of course, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, book 7 of the series with the final 27 pages to be read tonight to an eager household before we take on the movie.  Whew.

What a lot of stories going on in my head, no wonder my play is lying dormant, waiting for the warmth of inspiration after this foraging into other worlds.

I’m so grateful though.

There was at least three invitations last night to go out and socialize and we all stayed in, grateful not to be interrupted as we supped and centered as a family.

I’m so proud of my boys.  Donovan built a “grass tobogan”.  Yes, a huge bobsled out of cardboard that holds three kids and they went screaming down Hamm hill this weekend with the delight of Calvin and Hobbes without any snow!  I’m sorry I don’t have pics of that...yet.

 The orange in the autumn air is making us resourceful, creative, and spontaneous.  There has been a resurgance of new ideas and original work here at the Snider house, like the turning of a pond in the spring.  Why is it the coming winter, the nearness of “death” and the change of color bring about such industrious endeavor?  I won’t ponder too long, but enjoy the season. This is a time for freedom in trying new things and harvesting the work of the summer.  This is a time for thoughtfulness and quiet afternoons.  This is a time for dreams and discernment for the future.  This is a time for peace.