Feeling introspective these days. Typically my thoughts, ideas and sharing of daily experiences flows like water from a faucet for me. These days I am feeling more like a dried up well.
The weather has turned quite chilly here in New England over the last few weeks and I have been spending the majority of my days trying to figure out how to stay warm. Wool socks, hot cocoa, blankets galore and many-a-night spent cozied up in front of a roaring fire, built and tended with love by my husband are doing the trick for now. But the urge to simply curl up and hibernate until Spring springs again is irresistibly tempting.
I guess you could say that I'm having trouble transitioning into this new, wonderfully chilly and colorful season called autumn.
We have settled nicely into our habit of schooling and with this comes lots of routine and habit-forming. Routine is good. We all thrive on it and need it to grow and learn. It's just that routine becomes so... routine at times.
But it is these very rituals and rhythms and routines of our day that my children will remember most when they think back on their childhoods- the schooling each morning, the playing outdoors in the afternoons, the timely three meals each day, the poems we read twice weekly, our handicrafts every Friday afternoon, our Wednesday library trip, the cleaning up when day is done, the bedtime story and lullaby, the nightly prayers and kisses and the steady, secure arrival of bedtime each and every night at the same time.
Sometimes life is nothing more than the simple acts that carry us from one day to the next- empty bowls of oatmeal signaling the end of another breakfast, soft morning sunlight streaming through windows reminding us that a new day is beginning, quiet smirks that seem to say "not yet" and the security found in that cozy spot on the sofa just when you need it most.
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