The leaves linger high on the trees, mostly on the oak trees. Even after a grand wind storm, like the one we had recently, I can still spy a few leaves up high here and there. In their gentle rustlings, I hear them laughing as they discuss the latest news with the passing season's breezes. They call to me to be outside with them, to enjoy the passing of this time, and not to shrink away from the deepening cold.

The colors that were once gold and red, with hints of green, under a canopy of burnished gold have subdued into the browns of late Fall. Earlier this year, the greens low, mixing with the gold and red high in the canopy created an impression of glowing light. A Glow that suffused the forest. Now, the eye finds burnished reds, coppers and browns below, all layering the earth with a cozy blanket of remembering for winter dreams. The ground is a mosaic of conversations, ones that were once held high above our heads.

The winter birds have moved in too. They are robust, courageous, fast, flying in for food on frosty mornings and chatty. Chirping happily, as they glean from the late summer windfalls, diving in and around the larger birds who voraciously, gulp down their seeds. No one but the squirrel lingers long.

Today, I have found a window of spaciousness, letting me sit quietly with the birds. Together, we revel in the afternoon sun. My seat, in the sun, is removed enough from activities to provide the space they need.

I have brought two chairs out with me to share in the luxury. open for possible guests from Spirit. They may like to sit and marvel with us in the magic of a warm afternoon. Elementals, angels and other beloved ones may join as they please. These are seats of honor in the garden of Fall warmth. I share in the company of gratitude and beauty. Grateful for this magic, I thank the breeze; I share my love with the trees, and wish the birds good health.

The wind moves through from time to time, jostling the trees in the forest, and chiming the notes of rustling leaves, who rustle, sigh and surrasate nearby.

Soon, the bold colors of browns that linger, will also lay down and rest. Soon, the beeches and oaks will relinquish their remaining leaves, offering them like gifts to the breeze, golden notes fluttering to the sky, released before the winter rains, and snows. Guides of the season. For we too have gifts to release. Experiences that have had their story told, and can return to the earth. Stories that made sense for a season and now, seem no longer needed.

I want to create from this abundant beauty that surrounds me in magic today. Trusting the flow of life and the angels that carry me. Blow through me, breeze of magic, like the winds in the trees. Release the old unneeded rhymes, release the old stories of pain and disharmony. Let the spirit grow gentle and peaceful in the coming quiet that winter brings. Quiet as the trees in the deepening night, and the browning of earth.

I hope that you too, dear readers, find moments of quiet and stillness to listen to the breeze, listen to the stars, and listen to the deepening this season brings.

So much love