The rituals of the day play out before our eyes.
Of some we are a part, of some merely an observer.
The sun will rise without our aid. We all believe it will and like a well oiled machine it appears above the horizon each day.
Some rituals we lead. The getting out of bed, the daily ablutions. Do we do them consciously or on automatic pilot?
We take part in a lot of the day as mere automatons.
Do we remember the first breath of the day?
The first view of morning.
Do we practice mindfulness as we go about our daily life?
Or do we just exist in these moments?
I find myself stopping, taking time to be in the moment.
To smell the faint aroma of Winter's arrival.
It wasn't too many days ago that the first breath of the day was warm. It smelt and tasted of a hot Summer.
Granted not many of those this year. But still, where did it go?
How come Autumn arrived so fast this year? How did the wheel change as it did?
The world looks different now. From the greens and yellows of Spring we now have golds and ambers and firey reds, turning before our eyes to brown.
Fruit on the hedgerows begging to be made into jams and pies or cordials.
My apple tree has proper fruit this year. The first since we moved in almost five years ago. I don't know its age but this years fruit is mature and lush. Not many but a crop none the less.
I will make a pie of them and give thanks to the Goddess for her harvest gifts.
The shawl I've just finished. I named it pumpkin field as it reminded me of the fields of pumpkins around this time. The yarn is Zauberball and crazy Zauberball.
We are ok chez Moggie, trying to enjoy each day to the full and not think of things we can not change. Not always easy but we try.
And you?