Autumn Leaves

Youth is like spring, an over praised season, more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes.  Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers, we gain in fruits.
Samuel Butler

If ever I had to move back to a warm weather climate, there's nothing I'd miss more, than the change of seasons, for in western Pennsylvania, the transitional months between winter and summer, are an assault to the senses, with their panoply of colors and earthy scents. I'd especially miss the fall, and the showers of golden leaves that flit and flutter about on soft autumn gusts, like downy feathers from a torn pillow.

Our second year back from San Diego, I sat at my office window describing the scene outside, to my brother in Arizona.  Each and every tree in my yard was a wonder, as the foliage changed and eventually dropped to the ground, where the gray squirrels scurried to gather fallen acorns, chittering to one another as they did so. I was so enthralled with the season, and its entertainment value, that one might have believed I'd never experienced an autumn before.

As a school-girl in Michigan, September and October were months spent mourning the loss of the summer, and everything that went along with it, including my freedom from school and responsibility.  As a young mother, the advent of fall meant a return to alarm clocks and packed lunches, homework and bedtime tussles.  In spite of its beauty, I resented the change and rejected the season.

I'm still not sure I'd appreciate the fall spectacle if I hadn't lived in Florida and southern California, where months meld imperceptibly, into one another without any showy display, flourish or fanfare.  I found there was little tangible evidence to mark the passage of time save the calendar dates of holidays and the new year.

Had I a fear of aging, I suppose I'd welcome this aspect of living in the desert or tropics, but I've embraced my advancing years and the wisdom one gains from having lived them, in much the same way I've embraced the seasons and the changes they herald.

I now sagely believe, that change keeps life from becoming stale and boring.  Though not real risk-takers, on our life-journey together, when given the option, Rick and I have made a point of taking the road less traveled.  There's a thrill in the mystery of not knowing what's around every bend or beyond the crest of the road, that makes the trip exciting.

The conversation I had with my brother last fall, led to my typing the three words that would take my life in yet a different direction, WOMEN ON TRACTORS.  I'd never blogged before, and had no idea what to expect from my endeavor, other than to appease a life-long hankering I've had to write.

At about the same time, Rick bought me a new camera.  I've always been a photo freak, but never had the time or money to seriously pursue photography as a hobby.  With a fancy new digital camera, an empty nest and an ever-changing world to explore, that is no longer the case.

Last January, I started down two uncharted roads, only to find them criss-cross and merge, nine months later.  While initially used simply to enhance my blog, my photos have now in many ways, become my blog, and can be viewed throughout its pages, and on slideshows in the sidebar.

Like the cold, spring water that spills freely down the mountain and into the creek-bed that runs through our property, I have rambled, sputtered and gushed my way along, looking for direction and inspiration.  I believe I've finally found a vantage point from which I can speak comfortably, and with ease.

Women on Tractors is changing, but it will still be the voice for people like me who would rather learn how to drive the tractor, than rely on someone else to do so for me.  Some people are content, to sit on a couch and experience life through the people they see on television or read about in magazines. This blog is about inspiring you to do more - to follow your dreams, to find your voice, to stand up and be counted, and to have a good time as you do so, no matter your age.