It is a beautiful morning here on the farm. The sun is shining in the crisp fall air. Harvest is humming and today – for the first time in about a week – I am starting to feel normal.
Bronchitis and I are old foes. He comes to visit once or twice a year and I spend the rest of the year trying to figure out how to kill off the little bugger for good. I got sick while I was on vacation in New Hampshire last week and have been home trying to recuperate. I’m not very good at sitting idle. I’ve gone out a few times this week just to get some fresh air in my hurting lungs. This morning was the first time I took a good walk, which I would guess was just under a mile in length.
Typically when I go out for a walk I head up through the dairy and head west on the canal bank that splits the north from the south on this property. It’s fairly level with few obstacles. The canal makes it feel like I’m walking along a stream and occasionally, I’ll catch a glimpse of a deer or two. I headed that way this morning, but made an abrupt change before I hit the end of my driveway. I headed west down a lane and through a freshly planted field. I felt like taking a walk off the beaten path today.
Fall always feels like a “New Year” to me – far more than January 1. There’s the start of the new school year for starters but I truly appreciate the transition from the passion and energy of summer to the slower reflection of autumn. Walking through this field, I thought back to this time last year, when corn was being harvested. This summer it held two different barley crops. Now a winter crop is planted and a few little green sprouts have made their way to the sun. Soon it will snow and the plants will sleep and store energy to be harvested next spring and fed to the cows.
Walking the perimeter of the field I can see the various footprints of my neighbors. Plenty of deer. A raccoon. An odd-shaped print that I have to guess is a piece of equipment, though I’m at a loss to explain what the hell it is.
This picture really doesn’t do it justice. At first glance it looked like a print from a draft horse, but it’s too deep and the wrong shape. It’s way too large to be a boot print. I’ll have to investigate further.
Once on the edge of the field, I cross to the lane that runs toward the river and a gravel bed. I can run a little bit there. My slow shuffle won’t win any races, but the breeze feels good on my neck. Then up the tree-lined path toward my house.
It’s a short walk, but my body loves the air and the energy it provides. I feel ready to face my long list of to-dos. The fall always makes me feel ready to start new projects – but it’s different than the rush I feel in spring. This time of year, I want to nest. To settle. To create. Like a bear hibernates and stores energy, I seek out activities that fill my soul and challenge my mind – perhaps so that when spring comes, I can emerge fresh and full of ideas.
Sometimes, I think we forget we’re part of the animal kingdom. We have instinctive rituals that get buried in our busyness. This is a perfect time of year to listen to our bodies again. Hear the inner calling to restore our souls. For me that means I’ll spend as much time outside as I can – filling my lungs with good air and filling my heart with the richness of the harvest.
