Oh Happy Day 111309: Seasons

Happy Friday, again! My Oh Happy Day gratitude project has seriously fallen through the cracks over the last few weeks, as has my “5 grateful things” habit that was intended to fuel it. Nonetheless, with the Thanksgiving holiday looming, now seems like the perfect time to revitalize my own version of “thank God it’s Friday” in post form. On Sunday I’ll be beginning this year’s 12 Days of Thanksgiving celebration with a post each day leading up to the national holiday. I can’t wait to see what I learn this year about the power of a thankful heart.

I’ve been thinking about seasons this week. It’s easy to notice the changing of seasons in Fall as the leaves begin their display of colors. The changing of seasons in life is not always as easy to spot. Yesterday I drove Little Drummer Boy and Bug to see Disney on Ice in Tupelo, Mississippi–about 75 miles through mostly farm lands. We saw combines harvesting and cows grazing and big trucks rolling and seasons changing. I’ve always thought that Mississippi didn’t have much of an Autumnal show of color with our mild climate, at least not the kind of show you see in cooler locales. But, lately I’ve realized that our trees have their own display, if you only know where to look.

More often than not, our Fall color comes in varying shades of greens and reddish browns, sliced by a gray entanglement of bare branches. This backdrop makes the less prolific Sugar Maple, Crape Myrtle, Bradford Pear or Ginko simply shine with vibrance. The bright reds, yellows and various in betweens they produce become jewels in the normal Mississippi sight line. It’s all in where you look.

Last November, only Little Drummer Boy and I went to see Mickey Mouse ice skate. It was a special Mommy-toddler day where we caravaned with the rest of his class from preschool. When we returned, we visited McDonalds–just the two of us. It was a rare pleasure. Yesterday, Bug was with us and it was just as special, only with a few signs of seasons changing. Signs that have been sneaking up on me for a while.

Bug wasn’t old enough last year, and LDB spent his visit to the “show” sitting in Mommy’s lap. This year, LDB was content to sit in his seat beside me or stand to see better. He covered his ears when the music got too loud rather than look to Mommy with concern. It was Bug’s turn to sit in my lap with the wide-eyed wonder of new and uncertain experiences.

Last year, LDB was awed by the Tinkerbel “show light” we got and the cotton candy–a memory that hasn’t faded. He decided early on in our planning that Bug should get one this year. They both got a “Nemo” light this year (yes, we contributed to the massie Disney machine, much to my chagrin), but a year older meant Little Drummer Boy was somewhat more savvy in his understanding of his purchasing power. He wanted another toy as well, so of course, Mommy obliged for both boys. We’ve slowly become more and more aware of the culture around us. Seasons change.

Last year, I was hard-pressed to convince Little Drummer Boy to leave the McDonald’s booth to play on the big slides. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the toys, it was because sitting next to Mommy was more of a treat. This year, I was hard-pressed to get both boys to come sit at the table long enough to scarf down their chicken nuggets. And, even though I could see the delight in their eyes as they catapulted out of the slide chute and came running to Mommy for a hug, I also saw the turning of the leaves. LDB still looks back to say “I love you Mommy,” but he’s off. Simply sitting beside Mommy to share french fries isn’t all there is anymore.

The seasons are changing. I can see their independence growing and their immersion in the culture around us expanding–the things that pull them and push them from my arms into the unknown. But, this is still a Happy Day post. Though the changing of seasons inevitably involves a bit of mourning for the old, it also bears an eager anticipation of the new. I’m very thankful that God offers us the promise of changing seasons–in nature and in life. All life, be it leaves or humans, is created to grow, to change, to move toward its destiny–or die. Those are the options. To hold back the change would be to do my gifts a great disservice in inhibiting their launch toward the people God made them to be. With the promise of seasons, we can see change. We can see growth. We can see that much is temporary and refine what isn’t. We can see ends and beginnings, both of which have their own blessing.

“In everything there is a season. And there is a time for every event under heaven–
A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace.”

(ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Oh Happy Day!

Tues Twelve 110309: Fall on the Farm

This week’s Tuesday Ten Twelve list features things I love about Fall on “the farm”–one of my favorite places on earth. These scenes were captured on our recent sojourn for the Busy Bee Birthday Bonfire Bash, a family tradition.

1. Unswept cobwebs.

2. Wagon rides.

3. Yellow.

4. Brangus.

5. Red.

6. New heights.

7. Contemplation.

8. Aging vibrantly.

9. Overgrown paths.

10. First looks.

11. Shared gifts.

12. Beauty in unwatched places.

[This post is brought to you with special thanks to G-Mo and Paw-T, who gave us a Canon PowerShot SX20IS digital camera for the Montgomery adults' collective birthdays. Astounding life documentation on the way!]

Don’t Know Jack?

It’s October! Number 10 is my favorite month for so many reasons. It sort of serves as a personal New Year since my birthday falls at the end of the month. As the air turns crisp, I tend to air out my spirit a bit, appreciate the little pleasures more, and resolve to redirect my efforts where I really want them to count. And, let’s not forget orange. What’s not to love about orange!

For October’s desktop design, I couldn’t resist using a quote from my sweet Bug: “peek-ee-boot”. It was his first attempt at naming that giggle-producing game we all know. His unquenchable spirit is, well, unquenchable. (And, believe me I’ve tried many times in numerous public places.) But, it’s contagious in these free spirited days of early Autumn. The playful nature of transition always seems to peek through. Of course, one of Little Drummer Boy’s photographic efforts from last year made it into the mix with its toothy grin–a dude named Jack, nimble like the Drummer himself. The leaves are scans of ones we gathered in an autumn trip to the Great Smoky Mountains a few years ago, captured just as the color was waning.

Hope you enjoy! Point-clicky on the takeout box below to grab the full size version.

Tues Twenty-Two 092209: I Love Autumn!

According to Answers.com, Fall begins this year at 4:18 CST today — the moment of truth when the sun starts heading toward the Southern hemisphere. Wow! Excitement abounds. Autumn is my favorite time of year. I think I’ve said it before. In celebration of the day, I give you a biggie sized Tuesday Twenty-Two: Things I Love About Fall — the silly and the profound.

1. My Birthday — the big 4. 0. this year! Stay tuned in October for 40 awesome things that happened in 1969, including me!

2. Squiggle Bug’s Birthday — We brought him home from the hospital on Thanksgiving Day in 2006 and have been thankful ever since.

3. Crunching leaves under my feet.

4. Wearing long sleeves.

5. That blue sky. You know the one.

6. Crisp nights.

7. Busy Bee Birthday Bonfire Bash — the annual weekend on the farm turned shared celebration of our fall birthdays, complete with bonfire, hot dog roast and s’mores. Oh, and the best gifts — dirty-faced kisses, hugs, and giggles!

8. College football. And the much-applauded living room tailgating parties they inspire. (With popcorn.)

9. Decorating our house with pumpkins and scarecrows — with three helpers and one Quiver to climb up in the attic.

10. The GREAT new brown striped bamboo placemats I bought this weekend. And trying my best to wait until October 1st to put them out. Just because anticipation is so fun.

11. Boots.

12. Sitting on the front porch swing in a sweatshirt.

13. Candy corn.

14. “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” — and the 6734 times we’ll watch it.

15. Fleece.

16. Holding hands.

17. Garnering a grateful heart.

18. Mama’s sweet potatoes with orange slices.

19. Making turkeys out of oreo cookies, candy corn, malted milk balls, and chocolate icing. Hello sugar!

20. Robert Frost’s “Nothing Gold Can Stay” and “Reluctance“, both wonderfully melancholoy in contrast to my general autumn mood.

21. Orange.

22. Turning over a new leaf.

September

I spent most of the day at home today since my sweet Baby Girl is recuperating from a rough chest cold. Quiver and I tag-teamed her with kisses so that I could join in a couple of meetings at my office. Driving from work back home, I saw it. The brilliant blue sky that says September around here. It shows up revealing September’s spontaneity, it’s serendipity. Driving east, I was met with the faded and tired summer sky of August. But, turning north, peeking out above tree covered streets, there it was. The unmistakably deep and clear blue signaling that Autumn is on its way–in a month or two.

What a tease September is. You never know which season you’ll wake up to. It marks the transition to Fall, even in the South. Just this week, we are experiencing a welcomed relief from the summer heat. And even though I know it will return just as quickly, I can’t help but remark on the “touch of fall in the air” as I leave the house in the morning. The month of September brings expectations of cooler weather and breezy mornings. It brings a renewing anticipation of change from the doldrums of summer’s stagnating heat. Sometimes even the anticipation of change, having a change in sight makes all the difference.

September always recalls my memories of starting school. My children don’t notice as marked a difference between summer and the “school year” since they go to preschool year-round. But, for me September brought a big transition as a child since both my parents were public school educators. Summer meant my mother and I spent days at home playing and swimming. Going back to school was a big event. I still get a little pitter patter in my heart as I pass the “school supply” sections this time of year. Although the Charlie Brown, Suzy’s Zoo and Betsy Clark school box themes have given way to today’s Transformers, Nemo and Diego, the feeling of excitement is still the same walking through the aisles. Each new school year brought new lessons, new friendships, new teachers, new schedules, and new activities. It was a time to start fresh, to find focus again, to hunker down and learn. It still is, only in a much broader sense.

Fall has always been a time when my spirit feels fresh, when I’m eager to breathe in deeply and feel the wind in my face. Movement is inspiring. September brings spontaneity, transition and new start for our family. With Quiver laying aside his business and beginning a new job, we can already feel a deep breath coming on–a shift toward seeing more possibilities. It feels good. It feels fresh. It feels like September.

I love the poem Birches, by Robert Frost. It speaks of the triumph of play, of conquering the tree heights, of the freedom of flying matched by the security of swinging low to the Earth again. It’s the balance God graciously built into this world evident in the seasons, and in the bending of birch branches counterbalanced by a determined boy.

“I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over”

“I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.”

“One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.”

The poem–and September– inspired this month’s calendar desktop wallpaper, which includes a scratchboard illustration I did several years ago. Click the Junkie To Go box below and enjoy!