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.
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.
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.
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.