It was 1984 when we first came to Seattle, and it was late September when I started wandering Mercer Street up to the Seattle Repertory Theatre. I was astonished by the maple leaves in their various colors, even bringing home a bag full of leaves one day to try and create some artistic display for our small apartment on Roy Street. The art didn’t last, but the rich sense of joy I get from the cool autumn always returns.
September is the time of beginning, the time of change. I suppose it’s because of school starting. Each new year is chock full of possibilities, the fascination with what we’ll learn this year as we pour through new books, new ideas, new teachers, new classmates. Though autumn signals the coming of winter, September signals the coming of newness, and for whatever reason, I’ve never quite gotten over that.
I’ll try to take lots of walks this September/October, just to feel that sense of new possibility on my old, sagging skin.
Empirical evidence for grace…