Autumn’s gentle chill nudges summer’s warmth, transitioning long, hot nights into distant memories.

With fall’s approach, the calendar fills with seasonal activities. For my grandson and countless others, the first day of school arrives, painted with the hues of excitement for new adventures and a tinge of longing for the carefree days of summer. For me, it’s time to deadhead garden plants and rummage for sweaters, donning gloves for my brisk morning walks with Beaumont.

This shift occurs annually, yet each year, I find myself ensnared by “what if” musings, as sticky and persistent as bubblegum on a sunbaked sidewalk. Such thoughts seem futile when I consider the inevitability of autumn and the winter chill soon to follow on the howling breath of Arctic winds.

The fleeting nature of summer always evokes a wistful smile. Such is the human dilemma—wanting to resist change, the cascading leaves, the impending frost, and the ever-present march of time.

It’s the progression of age that amuses me most—though the amusement isn’t always light-hearted.

Last Saturday, my daughter and I took Beaumont and her two dogs for a mountain hike. It was a day full of warm sun bathed fresh air, shaded trails, and canine antics. Beaumont insisted on leading the pack, while Martha darted around, eagerly showcasing her discoveries with joyous smiles. Then there was Wilma—ever the pragmatist. At just three, she knows the value of conserving energy, choosing to trail behind at her own pace, as if living by the motto, “We’re all headed the same way, I’ll just arrive without the exhaustion.”

Aging, for me, is most evident in my feet. They register every step, reminding me of the miles they’ve tread through years of wandering hiking paths and ski trails. While in the past the return trek felt inconsequential, now every step resonates, urging me to reconsider the distance, as if I can make it shorter by my thoughts alone. Always, despite the slight (and sometimes not so slight) betrayals of age, I yearn for resilience.

That Saturday hike, a blend of laughter and reflections, was a reminder: life isn’t measured in years but in moments. And irrespective of what my feet might suggest, I plan to seize every one.

The Fall
by Louise Gallagher

The leaf does not plead with the stem, 
hold me, I’m dying.
Just as the stem does not
 beg the branch, don’t let me go, 
I’m afraid of falling.

In nature’s eternal way, 
when now becomes the time 
the branch releases the stem,
the stem lets go
and the leaf falls 
knowing nothing
but the fall
has arrived
and letting go
is all there is.

It’s been strange kind of two days.

Yesterday morning, in the midst of completing a project for work, I heard the whisper of the wise voice within calling me to pay attention.

“This one’s for you Louise,” it said. “You want to do it. It’s only fear of the unknown holding you back.”

Huh?

I do?

I knew what of the voice was whispering.

For some time now I’ve been pondering what I want to do for my upcoming 70th birthday that would be a celebration of life, adventure and the fierce woman inside dancing in her own light.

Heeding the voices whisperings, I waked upstairs from my office, walked into the bedroom, woke C.C. and said, “I think I’ll book a flight to Ireland.”

Okay. Full disclosure. I had the airline app open on my phone and was about to press, ACCEPT.

From his sleep-addled mind, C.C. replied, “Oh.”

I waited.

“Okay. Good for you.” After which he promptly rolled over, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

I pressed ACCEPT.

On Sep 30, I fly to Dublin for 10 days doing something, I’m not sure what, in Ireland. It is my father’s motherland and it feels… right.

Entering this new decade I want to live by the adage, “Expect the unexpected and you’ll never be disappointed.”

And that’s just the first of my trilogy of unusual happenings.

Later, C.C. and I were talking about dinner and out of the blue, I said, “What about dinner and a movie?”

I had my writer’s group so whatever we were doing, it had to be after 7:30. Which is why we ended up becoming members of the Cineplex VIP club. At 8pm, we were comfortably ensconced in our lounger chairs in front of a ginormous screen, eating dinner, chatting and waiting for our movie to begin.

What made it so unusual is the fact dinner and movie nights were a regular feature in C.C. and my calendar. This, however, was the first movie we’ve gone to since COVID’s reign. And the first time we’d experienced the VIP treatment. It was AWESOME!

The third thing is not quite so refreshing.

This morning, while sitting at my desk in front of our big picture window that overlooks our backyard, and the stretch of woods between it and the river, I smelled smoke, and then saw smoke rising from somewhere in the trees.

I immediately jumped into action, yelling at C.C. to “Get up and come see!” After a few minutes of deliberations, I hit 911 on my phone and told the operator what was transpiring.

Within minutes, a fire truck arrived, three fire fighters walked along the unmarked (and seldom trod in the summer as the woods are so dense) trail along the river and found someone encamped, warming themselves by a fire.

“You can’t light a fire in the woods,” one of the firefighters told the individual. And the fire was extinguished.

I appreciate that living and sleeping rough is hard.

I also appreciate that we have both a drug and housing crisis in our country.

However, we also have a wildfire crisis. A fire in the woods behind our house is terrifying.

My heart rate has come back to nomral, my mind has stopped racing. I feel empathy and compassion for the individual in the woods. I don’t mind having him camped there (though I’d prefer if he used a shelter.) Sleeping rough is risky, particularly if drugs are involved.

However, lighting a fire in the woods behind our house is not acceptable. I shall stay vigilant.

C.C. and Beaumont have gone back to bed. I continue to sit at my desk, savouring the beauty of this glorious July morning.

I have adventures afoot.

Perhaps these two days are the invitation to get used to living within a world of unexpected’s. Perhaps, it’s the invitation to let go of fear and dive into adventure!

Namaste

From where I sit, green leaves kiss a periwinkle sky etched with unwritten stories full of fluffy white clouds of possibilities.

From where I sit, bird song embraces the silence opening it up to new harmonies in the mystical key of life unfolding.

From where I sit, life opens up into a limitless vista of the long and winding road leading the way to adventurous roads full of mystery and magic.

From where I sit, my heart dances with a song of joy.

____________________

As I lay in bed drifting in and out of early morning slumber, words pranced through my mind like a string of rainbow-coloured streams of ribbons trailing from a child’s bicycle handles.

I let the muse carry me away without censure.

Sometimes, playing with words greets me with it joyful expression of a brand new day meeting the sun’s smiling face in the morning. There is nothing I can do but dance wild and free with the words.

This is not a day to look down, or back. In this blissful moment, unexplored avenues open up and I step joyfully into life’s shimmering possibilities.

Ahhhh. Ain’t life grand?