OCTOBER'S AIR, SUN NOSTALGIC
By OLIVENE GODFREY
October is my favorite month of the year. With its bright blue sky and Indian Summer, I find this month a time of enchantment. And poets have long praised October's delights. Many people look forward to spring. And I also enjoy the re-birth of nature, the freshness of springtime. Still, all summer I find myself thinking of October.
Usually in northwest Georgia, the weather is still warm in the daytime with cool nights, and there's a fresh autumn tang in the air and that incredibly blue sky. Farmers bring in the fall crops and apples are harvested. Bliss Carman wrote:"There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her. When from every hill of flame--She calls each vagabond by name." For some people autumn is rather sad. Perhaps this is because we often equate autumn with old age--often referring to the "autumn years" of a person's life.
For me, autumn is a nostalgic time. I linger over old memories or other autumns. And I meditate and wonder if age is bringing me any wisdom. When we're young we don't like to think of growing old. And it isn't something we suddenly become. It happens automatically without any effort. When we look into a mirror we receive a distorted image because we seem to want to cling to our childhood faces. While we don't like to think of growing old nobody wants to die young. So, sooner or later, we have to face the fact that we really do want to grow older.
If we stop to think about it, it's rather frightening to think about--but right-now, today, tomorrow, or next week, we're determining what kind of elderly person we'll be. Sone young and middle-aged people are sweet and kind. Others are cranky and mean and unkind. And, as we grow older we either become kinder, or meaner. Something to work for--an old age as bright and lovely as October.
QUOTE: O suns and skies and clouds of June..And flowers of June together..Ye cannot rival for one hour..October's bright blue weather." Helen Hunt Jackson.
See you next time.
By OLIVENE GODFREY
October is my favorite month of the year. With its bright blue sky and Indian Summer, I find this month a time of enchantment. And poets have long praised October's delights. Many people look forward to spring. And I also enjoy the re-birth of nature, the freshness of springtime. Still, all summer I find myself thinking of October.
Usually in northwest Georgia, the weather is still warm in the daytime with cool nights, and there's a fresh autumn tang in the air and that incredibly blue sky. Farmers bring in the fall crops and apples are harvested. Bliss Carman wrote:"There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her. When from every hill of flame--She calls each vagabond by name." For some people autumn is rather sad. Perhaps this is because we often equate autumn with old age--often referring to the "autumn years" of a person's life.
For me, autumn is a nostalgic time. I linger over old memories or other autumns. And I meditate and wonder if age is bringing me any wisdom. When we're young we don't like to think of growing old. And it isn't something we suddenly become. It happens automatically without any effort. When we look into a mirror we receive a distorted image because we seem to want to cling to our childhood faces. While we don't like to think of growing old nobody wants to die young. So, sooner or later, we have to face the fact that we really do want to grow older.
If we stop to think about it, it's rather frightening to think about--but right-now, today, tomorrow, or next week, we're determining what kind of elderly person we'll be. Sone young and middle-aged people are sweet and kind. Others are cranky and mean and unkind. And, as we grow older we either become kinder, or meaner. Something to work for--an old age as bright and lovely as October.
QUOTE: O suns and skies and clouds of June..And flowers of June together..Ye cannot rival for one hour..October's bright blue weather." Helen Hunt Jackson.
See you next time.
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