I look out the kitchen window, to the side of the yard, and the rose leaves are past their golden moment. The rose bush is next to a burning bush, which is still red. Perhaps the brilliance of the red this year helped draw attention to the gold.
Ten years ago, I mostly missed the autumn here, with my mother’s final illness in another place. For all I miss every day, in terms of what I could appreciate, the beauty of that autumn outside her windows is an enduring postcard in my mind. Grace in the hour of need.
I trust I will see and write what I am supposed to each day. However small the moment. Maybe simply observed and not written some days. Rest.
The way colors can work together also leads me to think about collaboration. I surely appreciate the editors and designers of blog themes, for example, who help me improve my work and give my words a beautiful place to live.