Like Pearls

I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid

or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following

one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.

Anne of Avonlea

These, to me, are among the more precious gifts of autumn. These simple pleasures, these pearls slipping quietly off a string. Calmly and steadily, with reassuring grace and poise.

The squirrels scampering and scolding, gathering walnuts and filberts with diligence and haste. The ducks dabbling and venturing toward the shoreline, closer than I've seen them before. The tortoiseshell cat crouching near the fence, intently eyeing his next meal. The wild apples mingling in a lovely tangle with the hawthorn berries. The flash of dappled black and white feathers from a large bird that only just catches the corner of the eye (was it a peregrine falcon?).

These are the pearls of autumn, the simple pleasures that have a way of both delighting the senses and calming the spirit. These -- "more than spring's bright uncontrol/ suit the autumn of my soul."

Come, autumn, come. You are welcome here.