Small Ways | Autumn Things
I’ve got my eye on the tall cottonwood in the middle of the shelter belt on the far side of the pasture. It tells me things I’m curious to know. One day last week, there, in the middle of its all-green leafy canopy, was one brave branch of brilliant gold. In the days since, so many random branches around the treetop have also flipped to yellow, like warming light suddenly emanating from window to window in a darkened house.
It’s the turning on of autumn’s lights. By August, summer’s light had worn thin and flat, exhausted with the heat. But by weeks and slight degrees, the angle changed, and now autumn, with her kinder, gentler light is here. Day by day, she’s spreading her warm, rich tones everywhere.
I’m at the clothes line as I ponder all this, unpinning the white sheets, doubling them over and over themselves, carrying them, draped across my arm, to the bedroom inside. It’s Tuesday, the day of the week that the bedding gets washed and hung, then spread and tucked back on the bed. But, somehow, autumn’s turn makes me want to nest even more than the usual, to do little, extra things that make our home and lives feel cared for and held. Free, by simple means of attention and thought.
Maybe it’s bringing in a colorful, leaf-laden branch, clipped from the wild, for a vase inside. Maybe it’s turning down the freshly made bed, as if it’s expecting us (oh, I love this). Maybe it’s having tunes from a new autumn list playing all day long.
It’s taking turns, really, like the seasons are. Switching from summer’s ways to autumn’s, one small way at a time.
Simple. Reachable. Doable. Small ways. They pack enough punch to change your world, or your day. Or maybe, simply and gloriously, they’ll change your moment. Small Ways is a series about small objects, small gestures, small touches. Small ways for living well.
