II

Elenya ~ Saturday

Strange, it is, that canopies made up of leaves that are brown and curled, vault up into crisp Autumn skies. The colors of the fall season have bypassed us this year. A cold front steam-rolled down upon us and caught all of us (flora included) by surprise with its power and coldness. As I walked along this morning, I noticed winter-grey bottomed clouds topped with the fluffy whiteness of Heavenly heights. What is usually a pleasure of fall, kicking crispy leaves, was not present. Instead, piles of wet and frozen green and brown raiment were littered everywhere. Under these piles was snow and ice. Hopefully, with a turn in the weather, those delightful and colorful days of fall will tease us for a few precious days before winter makes its long presence known.

Of late, I am enjoying my new knitting skills. Knitting scarves seems to entertain me for hours on end. The process of making something from a ball of yard is mesmerizing. While knitting away, there is no way of knowing how delightful it is to wrap a particular scarf around my neck. When that last tail of yard is woven into the scarf and the yarn is finally cut, an independent entity is born. A miracle has happened!

My hubby has also learned to knit. At first, there was much grumping. Guys don’t knit. I heard those words over and over again. With great reluctance, he learned how to somehow coordinate knitting needles and fingers and has completed a lovely scarf. He finished this masterpiece while away on a business trip. Upon arriving back at our abode, in he walked with a big grin on his face and his scarf wound around his neck. It was that moment of magic, when the scarf was no longer attached to the ball of yarn and dependent on its existence. Previously, he announced to the world (and particularly to me) that this would be his first and last knitting project. At this time, he is looking for a hat to knit.

We have talked of knitting a sampler together and donating it to a worthy cause. For my part, just the doing of it brings me happiness. Completing the project is satisfying but not the most important part. As I ponder this, I realize that perhaps it is that way with living. The joy is truly in the journey. Traveling through each day, being a help to others, and enjoying whatever comes my way brings satisfaction and cheer.

My thinking about old age stepped down a different path just a few short years ago. Passing the half century mark gives a person a different perspective, especially when one realizes that more of life has passed by than is yet to come. There are times when I wonder what my purpose is, here on this planet. However, swinging along through the day, trusting that God guides my foot steps, may be all that is needed.

May you trust in the Lord to guide you along the way ~ Tasarwen

end of page
back home

I

Anarya ~ Sunday

With a quickness and vengeance, cold and snow have returned to my realm. One day I am running around in sandals and shorts and the very next, I am wearing sweaters and jeans. A slower transition is more to my liking but such is the way in my land among the clouds. Being that I am the sort of person who likes loose and comfy clothing, wearing layer after layer is a bit much to take. It is hard to move. In fact at times, it is hard to turn my head.

As a child, I spent a few years in Florida. It was truly a time of freedom, not only from the responsibilities of being an adult but also from all the cares associated with living in a cold climate. I think living in the land of flowers stuck with me, to a degree. In fact, humidity rather agrees with me. My hair and skin certainly love moisture. Along with the cold comes a furnace that is ferociously trying to dry the air of my abode. I have humidifiers running continuously. I must admit that the climate in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest, in general, agrees with me. I adore that part of the country and have a some special friends there.

My travels are continuing through the fall. I seem to be living without roots these days. At times, it does bother me but when I simply fall back to my simple life of taking each day as it comes and not thinking too far ahead, peace ensues. Recently, I read how much worry brings grief and stress into ones life. Worry seems to sneak in like a wolf upon its prey. Rarely, do I recognize it. It is cloaked and comes sliding in on furry, padded feet. Suddenly, tension rears its head and I have to really think about what is going on and where it is all coming from. Mentally, I tally up what the issues are and try to put my finger on the cause of my fretting. It never fails to amuse me how silly my concerns are.

In Matthew (chapter 6 and verse 25, I think), God makes it clear that as human beings, we are not to worry about a thing. It makes no difference to the outcome, whether or not we worry. But, even though I know these truths well, it seems hard for me to simply obey. The only conclusion I can come to is that the worry monster has become entrenched and the process has become a very bad habit. So bad, as a matter of fact, that I do not recognize the monster for what it is and react only to the symptoms. It takes a definite act of the will to confront the monster and realize what is actually going on.

As I continued my reading about worry, I discovered that the actual lines we form on our face are an indicator of the degree to which we fall pray to this adversary. However, I must admit that these writings were recorded around the turn of the twentieth century. Since that time, it has become a scientific fact that sun exposure has a great deal to do with those dreaded fine lines that tag along with the aging process. Often, I wonder why we do not have these lines on our arms, or legs, or some other place. Why are they so specific to our faces? Methinks it has to do with a badge of honor. We have earned these and with them comes the pronouncement to the world that we have knowledge and wisdom.

Living in a world where youth and beauty are sought after with great desire, these signals of having lived on this planet for more than half a century is frowned upon. With great humor, I remind myself that all of us are putting years behind us. Like the wisest among us say, it happens.

May you see each day as a gift, not to be wasted ~ Tasarwen

end of page