And the Aftermath

My to-do list exploded as soon as we pulled into the driveway on Saturday night. Rob cleared out the car and car carrier while I unpacked, assembled laundry baskets, emptied the cooler and re-stocked the pantry. The fridge was barren, the cat food ran out (fortunate kitties were re-supplied by our neighbors), and the trees conspired to drop every last leaf while we were gone.

We survived the re-entry process to work and school, only to  be rudely interrupted by Halloween festivities. Today I dealt with the aftermath of trick-or-treating, which required a massive donation of leftover candy to the orthodontist and teaching swimming lessons to high-as-kites or down-in-the-dumps kiddos. My prayers and sympathies are with educators all around the country dealing with kids on sugar. And did you know that sugar is only one carbon molecule removed from heroin?  Easy to see after last night's candy binge.

As I drove home from work I reflected on the fading fall, the turning from Halloween to Thanksgiving and beyond. Leaves are mostly on the ground or in the landfill now, and the colors have bleached from all remaining foliage. Though temperatures are warm, the stark naked limbs of our deciduous trees point to the change in season. Autumn is the aftermath of a bountiful summer, a time of honoring growth and respecting loss. I was fortunate enough to experience a nascent fall in New England, a glorious full flowering in Colorado, and the start of a descent to winter in spiritual Yosemite Valley. I'm now ready for a short death myself - by way of a nap - and possibly the need for a vacation from my vacations.