Seems like only a few weeks ago I was as busy as the squirrels gathering fruit and vegetables to get me through the winter. This is the first year in probably 50 that I picked grapes.  The heady, earthy scent of grapes and damp  leafy vines had me reciting Keat’s Ode to Autumn.

But on today’s walk along the Mississippi River there was a  feeling of calm resolve. Like the final chord of a song. Everything in place as it should be. The frenetic activity of harvest, transforming, changing colors, and gathering is fading with the colors. Bare branches stand against the crisp blue sky. The chill in the air reminds me that Winter is coming ready or not. But, there is a resolution of Summer. Gratitude wells and I feel more grounded. The grasses are heavy with seed. Even the Chipmunks have found time to play. I don’t feel rushed rambling along the riverbank with Mico. Even the river flows slowly along carrying the last of the colored leaves south to the gulf. I find myself humming Thanksgiving Eve.

THANKSGIVING EVE
(Bob Franke)

It’s so easy to dream of the days gone by
It’s a hard thing to think of the times to come
But the grace to accept every moment as a gift
Is a gift that is given to some

What can you do with your days
But work and hope
Let your dreams bind your work to your play
What can you do with each moment of your life
But love ’till you’ve loved it away
Love ’till you’ve loved it away.

There are sorrows enough for the whole world’s end
There are no guarantees but the grave
But the life that I live and the times that I spend
Are a treasure too precious to save.

As it was, so it is, as it is shall it be,
And it shall be while lips that kiss have breath;
Many waters indeed only nurture Love’s seed
And its flower overshadows the power of death.