apple picking

The few that have fallen.

Today I went apple picking. The leaves are beginning their slow and lofty fall to the earth. The apples nearing the end of their season.

Upon my slow walk through the short wet grass, I found supreme interest in the fallen few.

The apples overlooked, and at times, met with a grimacing expression.

What was my compulsion to pick these apples over the red jewels still hanging from their trusty branch threads?

Did I see a version of myself in these apples?

These observations are what made this day so magical, or more so, the weekend.

Something is stirring. The sufferable summer heat has cleared as have the challenges presented along with. What is it about cooler weather?

When still living in Florida and contemplating my move, I felt the nudge…the need to be thrown into the cycles of season. The cold, even when bringing along overcast shadows, is welcome.

As fall nears, and I contemplate these questions, I’m presented with echoes of advice that I find in different forms. Whether it be a talk with a friend or favorite podcast.

The cold can bring about relief and discomfort all at the same time. How often have we found ourselves in this state?

Lately, there have been extreme transitions in my life and not all jarring or unpleasant. Some have been as necessary as the fallen apples.

Where perhaps I can look upon them and feel as if I’m leaving nothing behind.

The apples are released out of necessity to end the cycle that had once begun. This weekend I have taken note of the rhythms that exist all around me.

We can be the tree, the flowering blossom, the fruit begun and then matured.

We can be the apple whose fallen and we can be the observer, the passerby.

Life is amazing.