Last Sunday of Summer Morning Musings

Coffee in hand, I settle into the corner of my “sanctuary’s” sofa, the best spot for witnessing the dawning of a new morning, this, the last Sunday of summer.

Poised on the equinox, a soft golden glow appears through the willows as the sun makes its way into the sky, only two hours late, yet still early with what’s to come.

Surprising the degree to which wind currents vary in the relatively small space of a backyard.  From the barely evident whisperings among the lowest leaves and draped branches, to a fluttering higher up, and then to the more pronounced swaying in the treetops. Yet nothing like the big winds on Friday night, that came in a sudden and furious rush out of nowhere, stirring up big energies that caused a full moon-like fitful sleep, blowing out summer.

The tapping of toes on hardwood floors and kitchen tiles as my dear old Peggy dog wanders, out of sorts that I’ve taken my place in a room she’s never really felt at home in – except for her mid-morning sun baths – now restlessly waiting to fulfill her role as my office assistant, where she sleeps by my desk and the space heater.

Annie, meticulously cleans each toe on each paw, softly lapping and licking, focused and intent, until the need to establish ground, and hold court by issuing a low warning growl to Peggy’s unsteady and clumsy advances.

IMG_1495Tender indigo lobelia, still flush and iridescent in its outdoor planter while fuschia geraniums and pale blue petunias look weary, having weathered early September cold and snow, and its rebounding heat and sun. The high bush cranberry bushes filled with crimson fruit, leaves finally the promised vermillion after being freed from the shade of the dying forty year old mayday tree. Context is everything.

Quiet and steady thoughts send blessings and loving kindness to family and friends, one about to return from travelling abroad, others in the mountains, several healing from health crises or tending to ailing parents, many riding the waves of transition with grief, fresh or anticipated.

Gratitude for this moment, and for everyone and everything that as brought me to this moment.

And then those thoughts insidiously slip to the next moments’ myriad of things to do and I notice – whoops – how I just lost my balance, how that soft and subtle, open and receiving, peace and contentment – in a moment – becomes tight and closed, shallow and anxious.

Not yet.

Breath and redirection.

Gratitude for this moment, for this new day, the last Sunday of summer.

7 thoughts on “Last Sunday of Summer Morning Musings

  1. Good Morning Katharine — I love the phrase “…many riding the waves of transition with grief, fresh or anticipated.” It is funny how I can allow the peace to disappear with anticipation — instead of waiting until it happens. I catch myself all the time doing that. Seems like staying in the moment of what I am doing is my greatest challenge. Life is so very precious — thank you for sharing

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      • i have to chirp in here…..Laurie Hutchinson is SO right, it is amazing how much time ‘we’ spend anticipating problems! My goal is to try living in the present but anticipating issues makes my peace to…poof, and my present can become turmoil for no REAL reason. Thanks for your post Katharine and thanks for your input Laurie!!!

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  2. Lovely gift of grounding Katharine as I re-enter from Paris! I too am in my comfortable chair,
    pleased and surprised to look out and see such a riot of color in my own yard given the snowfall when I left. I’m awake still sated and brimming with the sights, sounds, and scents and of the Seine. A grateful heart for the plethora of gracious people, places and flavours I met … again or for the fist time.

    I also find myself working hard to hold on to this very spacious soulful place – a sense of time that spans millennia – far removed from the urgency of the to do list. And a wondering about how the tiny ebbs and flows of today will shape just one small layer in the bedrock of tomorrow… Also a heightened appreciation for our capacity as a species to rebound from the highest heights and lowest depths for continued resilience and joy.

    Thanks Katharine!

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  3. My garden still looks beautiful, except for the begonias which suffer from even the thought of frost 🙂 The thought of winter brings me joy as I love the chill and the silence that winter brings, as well as the fireside talks and many books to be read. I am learning to take photographs and that is exciting….each season brings it own special treasurers, it is up to us to find them.

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