I have a window in my kitchen that is a picture frame for the garden. This week, the leaves have turned, as they do every Autumn, a stunning shade of red.
I see the seasons changing just looking at the leaves and the light in their wooden, glass-covered frame. A moving picture.
And you wouldn’t think that these leaves are now dying. There is nothing here that speaks of loss, or of fading away. Green has become a shade of red more vibrant than blood in an explosion of colour that seems to put colour itself to shame. They are, frankly, extraordinary.
I always think of the colder seasons as a time to curl up, hide away, prepare to hibernate. Yet these leaves are out in all their glory. Enjoying what is perhaps their finest hour.
They suggest, or offer up, a different possibility. The discovery of a joyful, red-blooded warmth within myself – one that is capable of lighting up the world around me – even as that world turns cold and grey. The possibility of turning a colour and becoming an energy that is all the more surprising for the context in which I find myself. The possibility of not allowing myself to be defined, or limited, by the world around me.
New mum, old soul… Finding beauty, wisdom, spirituality, and opportunities for learning in the everyday (hopefully)…