Season Change

The trees are that funny shade of green that signals the end of summer and a change in seasons.

At the same time I am attempting to gear up for two more classes at the seminary, the earth is winding down to take its long winter's nap. We are out of sync with each other and in the battle of sync, well, let's just say, my second place is a given.

Days are shorter and a duck or two has begun the trip south.

Time to take the forsythia wreath from the front door and while it is a spring wreath, no summer wreath replaced it in June. A red and orange leafed one will in a month or so.

I notice the cat is sleeping more...that's funny...how can a cat sleep more than 24 hours a day or so it seems?

Labor Day came and went. Twice I mistakenly referred to the holiday as Memorial Day. Did I miss the whole summer?

Jim planted four huge mums underneath the bird feeder. They compete with the morning glories which have been severely hacked back four times this summer so as to not scare the birds from feeding.

Today is a day of memory for the country. Ten autumns and springs and summers and winters have passed since the attack. Still the freshness of the event remains. We live in an unsafe world whether we abide in the city or country, whether the United States or some other country. Lulled into apathy by wars on foreign soil, we have felt distant or perhaps isolated from these horrors. Nine eleven was perhaps the first time a whole generation of Americans realized that they are not immune to the tragedies experienced by much of the world's countries, tragedies experienced much more often than once every ten years. Brighter, more erudite folks than I have written about this event so I'll just close with a line from a very old hymn of peace, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me."

And that's what I think about it.