The Arrival of Autumn...

We Alaskans have a moment of panic in August as the fireweed begins to turn to fluff and the days begin their decent into longer nights. Winter is on its way! The cold, the ice, the darkness will soon be upon us and we are not ready to surrender our mild temps, green grass and long daylight hours! We go through all the stages: denial, anger, bargaining, etc., and yet we know winter will still come. While we are busy resisting the onset of winter, we (as in me) forget there is that most lovely of all seasons called Fall, Autumn, Harvest... It arrived this morning.

As I was walking to meet my sister, the skies were a gentle, mottled gray, the ground was wet with rain and the air was mild. Perfect walking weather. I unsuspectingly passed a tall evergreen tree just as gust of wind swept down and showered me with drops of remnant rain from the said tree, swirled yellow leaves around my head and carried the distant sound of honking geese to my ears. I honestly laughed out loud! Fall had arrived in one lovely, sensory filled gust of wind, and I was glad!

There are few events in life I do not look forward to, but the winter of old age is one I do not embrace with enthusiasm . The reality of achy bones, thinning hair, and moments of ebbing energy cause me to panic somewhat. I begin to consider dying my gray, joining a health club, buying one more youth preserving supplement in an effort to put off entering that winter too soon. However, I am so thankful for the reminders that the Autumn of my life is TRULY amazing! A camping trip with grandsons, Julian and Miles,

 


a birthday party for Jentry, and the gender revealing of a little girl due in mid winter (congrats Kristen, Josh and Jentry).


 


Add to this the glow of a daughter who is expecting a bundle of joy in February (congrats Jolene and Michael) and I am ecstatic!  

How do I forget in my worry of winter, how lovely fall can be?
 
    
  I squander the last few days of summer imagining a world of white cold (which I'll find just as beautiful as summer when I'm in sitting in my cozy chair with tea and a book) when I could be reveling in the warm slanted rays of waning sunshine. My Autumn years should be spent reveling in the harvest of my younger years instead of counting gray hairs and envisioning my old age (which I'll find lovely when I'm sitting in my chair with a book and a cup of tea).

Today I am finding myself joyful in the arrival of Autumn!

"For every thing there is a season..." Solomon the Preacher

World's Worst Traveler?

I am the world’s worst traveler, at least that is what my husband tells me. I love to travel but I am travel handicapped. This morning I woke up to my alarm going off at 3:50 a.m. to catch my flight to Springfield, Missouri. Good news-I arrived at the airport in plenty of time; however, bad news- the boarding pass Tom printed off for me didn’t have the gate number printed on it. Not to worry, I can find a screen and figure it out, I think as I nervously look around for a monitor. Good News- No worries! The baggage check lady put the gate number on my boarding pass! I smile confidently as I briskly walk to the security area. I’m debating whether or not I should tell the person at the ID check place that I appreciate all they (TSA) do to keep me safe. Chickened out. Bad news-I forgot to remove my jacket. I got stopped immediately and was told to please remove my jacket and put my feet into the yellow foot prints and put my hands over my head. Evidently, you have to have a body scan if you leave your jacket on…sigh. Good news- On the other side of security I was close to my gate AND the restrooms. YES! Good news-Totally empty and clean bathroom. Bad news-upon arrival at my gate, I realize I dropped my boarding pass in the previously mention clean bathroom. I run back to the bathroom, carry on slapping me in the back of the knees and purse flopping, praying fervently that some terrorist that looks like me and has found my boarding pass and is planning mischief does not exist! Good news-there is some tale tell paper under the stall door. Toilet tissue? Good news! My boarding pass! Back to the gate. No one there… Maybe an uncrowded flight? It could happen. Bad News-Plane is delayed due to mechanical stuff. Bad news-I hear my name announced across the Italian marble concourse… “Last call for flight XXX for Melanya Berg. Please come to gate xx immediately!” Whaaa? Shoot! I’m running three doors down and barely make it. The baggage lady put the wrong gate on my pass. Bad news-Grumpy door keeper doesn’t care that the baggage lady almost made me miss my flight.


I am the last passenger to board the plane. It’s totally packed. I’m sweating like an iced diet coke in a sauna, I throw my stuff under the seat in front of me. Bad news- The guy in front of me figured I’d never make it so HIS stuff was in my space. Good news-The guy across the aisle reminded him the rule is “…under the seat in front of you.” At last peace. Knitting, reading, music, napping…until I get to Dallas/Ft. Worth. Part II.

I Felt That...

It’s been almost 72 hours and I still can’t think of it without tears stinging my eyes. Hours of TV watching, carting a bag to car, restaurants and church sanctuaries; ending with a late night marathon all coming to waste. We will not even mention the hours of day dreaming and envisioning the future. But, alas, it was all ruined in a matter of minutes. No matter that the blanket was almost dry to begin with, the dryer was set on the lowest, gentlest setting possible, or that I whispered a prayer of protection for its mix of wool and bamboo fibers. The lovely Beach Glass green blanket, knit with the loving care of an expectant grandmother is now just a felted bath mat.


I would love to blame the yarn, but I knew not choosing an acrylic medium would be tricky, and I also knew that the fibers were prone to felting, but I had run the little sweater and bonnet through a brief cycle and the result was favorable. I should have known better…. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER… What was I thinking? At 2:00 a.m. I was not thinking. The list of I should haves include: allowing myself a late finish date, going to bed at 4:00 instead of 2:00, skip knitting the cute beaded headband two weeks ago… ARGH! After running that gamut my next rant was directed at God. “Why didn’t you stop me? Yes, I realize that I was created with common sense, but surly a Higher Power intervention could have been arranged!” By the time I was ready to leave for the baby shower with half a gift, I had run the full circle and was reverting back to, “I have no one to blame but myself. “

So many things go through your mind when you realize what is done cannot be undone: If I had just waited two minutes before sipping that hot tea, if I had just checked my rear view mirror one more time, if I had just listened to my head instead of my heart. After going through all the “should haves” we begin to concentrate on the “what’s to be done” phase. Tom’s suggestion was to make the “blanket” into a sleeping bag. In my agony I responded with, “I’d rather throw it away.” and gave him a scathing glare. Trying to make something useful out of our “should haves” is a painful experience. It mocks you (I still can’t look at the matted object lying on my dryer).

Saturday night I sat in front of my TV with a movie in the player. My hands felt empty, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up an unfinished knitting project. I was still in mourning. By Sunday evening, I looked up that sock I had started a couple of months ago, fingered the predictable wool-acrylic blend and sat down to try a couple of rounds. Yep, I still had it. I was still missing the warmth of the baby blanket on my legs and the weight of three feet of knitting on needles, but I found I could still enjoy the process.

I will forgive myself, eventually, for taking a short cut that cost hours of knitting time, and I will eventually laugh at this episode of knitting gone wrong, but in the meantime I will put off doing laundry until I can manage to pick up the remnant of my pride and move the felted mess of a blanket off the dryer, and put it aside.

If I Had My Life To Live Over~Erma Bombeck

Someday I'm going to write a book called, "20 Things I Want My Children to Learn While They are Young That Took Me 30 Years to Learn." Okay, the title is kind of long, I'll work on that. In the mean time, this list from Erma (whom I admire greatly) will be more than enough.

Happy Mother's Day!

If I Had My Life To Live Over
by Erma Bombeck

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the "good" living room and worried much less about dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching TV - and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

In stead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."

There would have been more "I love yous" ...more "I'm sorrys"...

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.

...But(t) Dust

There is a joke that circulates through the emails on a regular basis about a little girl listening to the pastor's prayer, "Oh God, remember we are but dust." (Psalm 103:14). The little girl later asks her mother, "What is butt dust?"

Oh, we laugh, but at times we feel more like butt dust than but dust. And, we are not alone in this. Remember Nathan poking his finger in David's face, "You are the man..." Butt dust! Jesus catching his disciples snoozing while he is sweating blood in prayer, "Can't you watch with me for one hour?" Butt dust! And of course there is me who regularly crosses the line into that category of humiliation.

We are forever sorting out the quirks of the English language. We limp through synonyms, jump over spelling rules and sweat over punctuation. Is it "then" or "than", "further" or "farther", "but" or "butt"? This is why we go back to the original language. And of course we know it isn't the "but" that is the issue, it's the dust. The dust refereed to here is the dust God scooped up from His freshly created world and formed into people. It is also what our bodies will return to when when die. Although we are not worldly (all the time), we are of the world and the laws of nature pull at us constantly, drawing us ever closer to the dust, physically. But (there's that word again), our spirits are ever pulled heavenward by a stronger force. The love of a Heavenly Father. So, weather...um....whether I am "but dust" or "butt dust", my Father is compassionate and His lovingkindess is from everlasting to everlasting. He knows me and my "idiot-syncrasies", and yet I am loved.

This blog entry is dedicated to my friend Jennifer who finds literary inspiration in a clogged toilet and I am encouraged!