This fall has been a time of reflection for me. A chance when life has slowed down enough with more kids in school, and a friend watching my littles once a week, I finally have a little space for myself. I’m dubbing it my “Sabbatical Year of Self Care.” While I do have hopes of writing more and getting research done during this time, it’s also a time for me to just focus on my emotional, physical, and spiritual needs rather than looking to constantly caregive for others. I’ve needed this space and this space needed me- a carved out nook in time and space where I can focus on just being.
It’s been a space for grief. A space for joy. A space for wonder. A space for anger. A space for friendship. A space for others to look after me.
Fall break last year in 2020 had been such a gift- it was a burning fire of glory in a full on pandemic. The trees had never been so beautiful, all peaking at the same time on my parents farm. It was nature in a healing way that sometimes only experience outside can provide. It was connection with my family after isolation and lockdowns. I had just started taking an author class to learn how to try and do this thing called ‘writing’ professionally. It had been a time of hope and dreaming of the future.
This year I was able to go back and enjoy the farm once again. It was a strange parallel from last year. This year it was rainy, gloomy, the trees were green and resilient to change due to the warmer summer. My recollection of starting my author school and commitment to writing left me somewhat discouraged that a whole year had passed and yet still I had nothing ‘major’ accomplished. My time with family was just as nice and despite the dreary weather the kids had found fun rainy day activities like performing plays in the barn loft and swinging from the rope swing. And ironically while the year before had been so bright and beautiful the constant sunshine had made it more difficult to capture the beauty of the trees. It’s the gray skies that allow the richness of colors to pop and come alive to our eyes.
I had to remind myself, that although a year had passed and nothing major to show for it, I had lots of little things to show. I had rejoined social media and broadened my circles, joining new communities online. I had deeper friendships with people I had spent time with and reconnected. I had started reading again, enjoying the words of others. I had even started a blog and website. While those weren’t necessarily the accomplishments that felt like a giant pat on the back, it’s a realization that they are the stepping stones that added together are a big deal. The idiom: “Rome wasn’t built in a day”, brings me some solace.
While disappointed that the trees wouldn’t show their vibrancy while I was there, I had to recognize, they too were at the whims of the climate around them. The warmer summer, the humidity in the air all factoring in. They are forced to adjust and peak when it is their time, when the environment has assisted in this spectacular task of losing their chlorophyll in preparation for the winter, some producing anthocyanin -red pigment, an antioxidant protecting it for what is to come. (The carotenoid produces the yellow in leaves, anthocyanin and carotenoids- orange, anthocyanin and chlorophyll produce brown.) I’m encouraged, that like scientists who until recently thought there was leaves were merely being unmasked, that now we know anthocyanin is made. A reminder that even in preparation for death there is work to do.
In my life I may not understand why my peak is taking longer and what these deaths are in preparation for, but that doesn’t mean my soil isn’t richer because of it and next year conditions might permit an even fuller display of glory and growth.