Looking Back at September, 1974

Revisiting a Journal entry, forty-four years ago, to 1974
September 1, 1974
September again! The golden month, burnished still with summer sun but deepening into shades of autumnal wine. The flowers, trees, vegetables and grass wear a look of culmination—their apex reached with decline only as far away as the first frost and the first rain storm. Could I have my wish for the day, I would scamper into the woods with Nushka’s eager furriness galloping beside me—journal in one hand and a fistful of dreams in the other.
I’d like to sniff out the ripe scene of September’s arrival. I want the colors, shapes, shadows, and gleamings to sink into a brain stuffed with beauty. I want to hear bird songs and wind sighs as I walk in the wheat-dry grass. In this paradise, the crows cannot spoil a finch’s ecstatic trill, or the celebration of sparrows. And underneath it all is the silver sound of running water.
I want to search out the ghost of rain beneath a moss-trunked tree, hold the golden doubloon of a fallen leaf in my hand, and lay belly down on the dry mat of a sun-soaked clearing. There to give myself to the sight, sound, scent, and feel of the forest—to know the pivotal moment when the earth seems poised between past and present. To know you stand on the tightrope between what was and what is – the instant before you are launched like a diver into the turbulent stream of Life in Motion.
The wind blows and shakes the bushy alders by the creek, loosing a cloud of leaves, dry and snapping. So we live in a bubble world where, with a gentle twist, the crystal lens fills with swirling color.

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Published in: on August 31, 2018 at 12:19 pm  Comments (2)  

September Past

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September Past

Published in: on August 30, 2018 at 12:11 pm  Comments (1)