I'm really feeling the fall today. It's cold and windy and it's the first weekday that I'm leaving work and it's already dark outside. (Darn Daylight Savings Time...) Anytime I went outside today the wind seemed to blow right through my bones, and I literally did a little tap dance under the heater vent in my kitchen at lunch to keep me warm while I heated up water for some hot tea (Harney & Sons Chocolate Mint tea, to be exact...you need to try it.).
On certain days I let the cold weather of fall and winter get the best of me. Because it lasts so long and dreadfully feels like an eternity until the sun shines again in May, I always feel so stagnant and gray. I do enjoy the evenings where I can sit in my apartment, burn my Autumn Walk candles, cover up with a fleece-y blanket, drink my Chocolate Mint tea, and try my best to cover my dad's recipe for the best chili ever.
What I'm finding is that my life really isn't all that stagnant and gray. It's full of vibrant colors that I just happen to notice every once in awhile, but not on a regular basis. I just finished a book called Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist, and I HIGHLY recommend it to you. It's all about celebrating life and living it out even when it feels like all we do is pay bills and check our email and eat peanut butter & jelly sandwiches for lunch and follow the routine of our everyday life.
She wrote one chapter about a red tree that she saw in the fall, and I happened to read it just while the leaves on the trees were changing here. I couldn't help but realize how in past years I had seemingly missed the beautiful colors of the fall in the midst of my hatred for the cold weather's arrival. And suddenly this year, I've begun to notice the colors. And I hope I can continue to notice the colors...not only of the changing leaves on the trees, but in the life around me...the lives around me.
What often seems dead and dull is really full of life and color.
What seems cold and gray can be warm and vibrant.
What seems boring and mundane can remind you of purpose and simplicity.
On my way back from lunch I drove down one of the brick roads in Lincoln and noticed the yellow and orange trees above were starting to lose their leaves. They were gathering in the streets, and all I could think about was jumping in them. That's what I want to do.
Jump in the leaves.