For the past two weeks, we’ve been wallowing in a glorious Indian summer, the longest and warmest in years. Not only a prolonged warm stretch, but a dry stretch as well, the first since early June. We’ve been making up time lost to the summer’s rain and floods – grilling every chance we get, turning off the furnace, opening the windows, working in the yard.
And I’ve been walking a new route in the mornings, going farther than usual on these mild October mornings, exploring paths inaccessible much of the year because of heat, wind, rain or snow. In this brief window of perfect weather, with the horizon a golden halo of trees, I push past the comfort of normal routine. I push the limits of my body and the limits of time available to spend. I store up time outdoors on these last warm days before cold weather hits.
Most mornings deer greet me, where their path to water crosses the walking path. They eye me nervously. So I freeze, pull out my camera, snap away, then inch forward one slow step after another, snapping pictures until the deer turn tail and run. Down the steep bank they fly, to the water at the bottom of a steep ravine. I marvel at their sure-footedness, their grace and beauty, the brilliantly colored trees surrounding them, the music of the rushing water where they drink. I shiver in the chill air as dawn walks beside me.
If I could choose one moment for time to stand still, this would be the one.
An Indian summer morning. A blessing from God.
