The seasons are changing — it’s there on the wind.
We find socks again.
We clean out the flowerbeds, plow up more of the garden, tend to the trellis with all its last blooms.
Beauty, it can be a strange flower, unfurling in the hard seasons — most fragrant in the wind.
I wonder at that too — In the pruning of the branches, the vinedresser is closest, breath warm upon the leaves.
We hear them before we see them — the geese flying south now over the cornfields.
Clarions of autumn coming.
Messengers in their straight v’s.
We stand in the garden and watch them fly overhead.
Is it true — that when a bird on the wing senses danger, it faces straight into the wind — so it can soar safer and higher?
Just quiet here today… very quiet in the wind. Thank you for grace… for your prayers?
Lord willing, Walk with Him Wednesday will return next week, reflecting on what it looks like to hope. A humble privilege simply to walk with you and Him, towards Home…