presence is grace

photo by Christen Mattix

I’m enjoying the signs of autumn.  The sweet smell of rotting leaves recalling rose petal and apple cidar.  The ornamental cherry tree oozing sap.  I was sorely tempted to touch it, but I’ve learned my lesson.  Mr. Patterson’s little maple is blushing yellow and orange and neon green.  How is it possible to love this place so intently?  And how does can I see something new on the same street every day in such a little space of time?  I think it has to do with a certain relaxed and open frame of mind.  I wish I could say that I’m always this present to the wonder around me, but I’m not!  This hour of knitting meditation does sometimes lift the internal static for a few moments of pure awe.

Photo by Christen Mattix. This is someone’s driveway. I always reminds me of a pair of red pants.

R. teased me as I marched down the hill to unwind the line, “Watch out for those hooligans down there.”  He asked me if I expected to complete the project by the holidays.  I said, “Probably not.”  He said, “Well, at least it gives you something to do.  Keeps you off the street–er, I mean on the street, and out of trouble.”

Sidewalk shot with knit line by Christen Mattix

Mostly quiet knit from 5:35 – 6:35 pm after that pleasant exchange.  (So much for my resolution to knit early in the morning.  “Shoot for the stars, you can always land in a bush,” as my mother used to say.)  I was glad to have managed to avoid the rain again.  “It was a devil of a rainy day yesterday, and now look at that blue sky,” S. told me on her walk past the bench.  M. strode by smoking his daily cigar, with Topaz, the old yellow dog whose claws drag on the sidewalk.  M is headed to Chicago to take in the beautiful architecture with a dear friend.  “There’s something new everywhere you turn,” he said.

 

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