October Thought Day 19: The Poetry of October

I’m cheating a bit today. As I was scrolling Pinterest I came across an October poem that grabbed my attention. I read it, reread it and then sat back and thought. I went outside and watched a farmer bale his hay. I came back in and looked at websites for ghost towns; and all the while that poem played in the back of my mind. I couldn’t shake it. Good poetry/writing will do that, it sticks with you. So here it is for you to enjoy.
“There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood. Touch of manner. Hint of mood; and my heart is like a rhyme, with the yellow and purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills to see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; we must rise and follow her, when from every hill of flame she calls and calls each vagabond by name. – Bliss Carman

The very first line is written as if the author knows me personally, “there is something in the autumn that is native to my blood.” I think if you were to examine my blood at the microscopic level, you would find little pumpkin shaped plasma cells tumbling end over end and shifting color from orange then back to red. I’m almost positive (no pun intended) I’m right. I really do think October is a part of my very chemical makeup, and I think it has been for a very long time. Is it odd to identify so strongly with a month? Obviously I don’t think so.

Then comes the next thought, “and my heart is like a rhyme, with the yellow and purple and the crimson keeping time.” Ok, first of all, I love the word crimson. It is so much better than merely saying red, and what a wonderful idea, a heart beating to the rhythm of the fall colors. Yellow. Boom. Purple. Boom. Crimson. Boom, boom. They forgot the vibrant wonder that is orange but I forgive them as orange is hard to rhyme.

“The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry of bugles going by.” The writer had me at scarlet which is another marvelous word; and the fact that the mere color of the trees can shake the author so powerfully, I feel that way all the time. I just talked about it with the example of the car going over the dancing leaves. There is so much beauty in October days that it takes my breath away. There are so many things to see, smell and taste that it is almost an assault on the senses. Farmers markets, nature, mazes, decorations, the night sky, leaves, everything conspires to get your attention; the glisten of an apple with fresh morning dew or the rasp of a cornstalk blowing in the breeze. It’s wonderful, an embarrassment of riches.

“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir.” Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better myself. It turns out, I also have gypsy blood running rampant in my veins. Whenever the fall starts to peek out from underneath the skirts of summer I get this incredible feeling of wanderlust. I just want to get in my car and drive, it doesn’t matter where, I’ll know when I get there. I just want to see things; new things, old things, beautiful things, anything, everything.

As the poem intimates, October is calling each of us, the question is, will we heed the call?

October Thought Day 13: Not What I Normally Write About

Usually on October thirteenth, I write about superstition. But I wasn't feeling very superstitious. Today I felt like dreaming, probably because I had some real amazing dreams last night. I tried to keep them going, but like all dreams, they soon slipped away into the ether to frolic and play as good dreams do. Since I couldn't go back to sleep I got lost in my other passion, daydreaming.  I love to daydream. I enjoy indulging in flights of fancy. My capacity for whimsy and merriment knows no bounds. I partake of these pleasures year round, however, October seems to magnify them. I see fairy hollows in each passing shrub or tree. I envision portals to secret worlds in every corn field or grove of trees. The moon seems to sparkle and the clouds are up to mischief. Dusk doesn't mean the end of the day, it means new adventures are awaiting for those brave enough to brave the dark. Perhaps there will be a shadows tea party where they drink mulled cider and eat chocolate cakes. Perhaps the pumpkins in the patch wait until the scarecrows give the clear and then hold waltzes in the garden.
I love October and the creativity it infuses me with. In no other month do I get such a sense of wonder and wanderlust. It isn't that I am unhappy with where I am, it is just that in October I KNOW there is so much beauty to be seen all over the place that I want to drink it all in as much as possible. I want to fill to bursting with the riot of sensory delights that October unleashes.

I want to move to Vermont or Connecticut and run a bed and breakfast. I want to get up early and go kayaking on a misty lake. I want to twirl through falling leaves in a maple grove. I want to skip across a covered bridge in the daylight and peek around its corners in the dead of night looking for headless denizens.

I want to find some sleepy town where time forgot and listen to them spin their stories while sitting on front porches in rocking chairs. I want to get asked to a cider social and have the thrill of picking out a fall colored dress. I want to enter a pie eating contest just so I have the excuse to smoosh my face deep into a pie without it seeming weird. I want to lay awake at night in a house older than my grandfather listening to the boards creak and settle. I want to wander past a wishing well in the middle of a glen and toss a shiny penny in then listen for the splash. I want to wander the back hills in search of local phantoms.

Sure, some of this, maybe all of this might sound too quaint. It might strike you as something only Norman Rockwell would paint. But I know for a fact that there are still pockets of this autumnal wonder left in the world. I want to strap on a well weathered green rucksack, lace up my sturdy boots and wander until I find it.

Sometimes I envy those pioneers. So much adventure waited around their door. I know their life was not without privation and hardship, but they also knew how to rest, converse, merry make and dream. I think we lose that in our hustle and bustle of life today. We don't value the dreamers and the free spirits. People who are just content to be and to take life as it comes. To imagine and wonder and live. October brings out those feelings in me and I am so grateful for it.

That is your homework as you move through the dwindling days of this month. Dream. Look for the magic giggling behind the corner. Pull it out and take it for a spin. See where the moment leads you. I'll bet it will be somewhere wonderful.

Day 20: Rather Rockwellian or Winsome Wanderlust

I love to daydream. I enjoy indulging in flights of fancy. My capacity for whimsy and merriment knows no bounds. I partake of these pleasures year round, however, October seems to magnify them. I see fairy hollows in each passing shrub or tree. I envision portals to secret worlds in every corn field or grove of trees. The moon seems to sparkle and the clouds are up to mischief. Dusk doesn't mean the end of the day, it means new adventures are awaiting for those brave enough to brave the dark. Perhaps there will be a shadows tea party where they drink mulled cider and eat chocolate cakes. Perhaps the pumpkins in the patch wait until the scarecrows give the clear and then hold waltzes in the garden.

I love October and the creativity it infuses me with. In no other month do I get such a sense of wonder and wanderlust. It isn't that I am unhappy with where I am, it is just that in October I KNOW there is so much beauty to be seen all over the place that I want to drink it all in as much as possible. I want to fill to bursting with the riot of sensory delights that October unleashes.

I want to move to Vermont or Connecticut and run a bed and breakfast. I want to get up early and go kayaking on a misty lake. I want to twirl through falling leaves in a maple grove. I want to skip across a covered bridge in the daylight and peek around its corners in the dead of night looking for headless denizens.

I want to find some sleepy town where time forgot and listen to them spin their stories while sitting on front porches in rocking chairs. I want to get asked to a cider social and have the thrill of picking out a fall colored dress. I want to enter a pie eating contest just so I have the excuse to smush my face deep into a pie without it seeming weird. I want to lay awake at night in a house older than my grandfather listening to the boards creak and settle. I want to wander past a wishing well in the middle of a glen and toss a shiny penny in then listen for the splash. I want to wander the back hills in search of local phantoms.

Sure, some of this, maybe all of this might sound too quaint. It might strike you as something only Norman Rockwell would paint. But I know for a fact that there are still pockets of this autumnal wonder left in the world. I want to strap on a well weathered green rucksack, lace up my sturdy boots and wander until I find it.

Sometimes I envy those pioneers. So much adventure waited around their door. I know their life was not without privation and hardship, but they also knew how to rest, converse, merry make and dream. I think we lose that in our hustle and bustle of life today. We don't value the dreamers and the free spirits. People who are just content to be and to take life as it comes. To imagine and wonder and live. October brings out those feelings in me and I am so grateful for it.

That is your homework as you move through the dwindling days of this month. Dream. Look for the magic giggling behind the corner. Pull it out and take it for a spin. See where the moment leads you. I'll bet it will be somewhere wonderful.