the first day of fall

"What I mean by the first day of fall is that day when you suddenly understand with your whole body that the season has changed.  When the air feels snappier against your skin and the sky's blueness turns wistful, and the humming of insects shifts pitch, and you just know like you know your own name that summer is over."(Marisa de los Santos in Belong To Me) 

how is it possible

that the first day of fall

has come and gone?

I find myself

clinging to the hope

that fall will linger 

that sunlight

will still find leaves on trees

to bath in 

glistening gold

i catch myself

calling "noooooo"

to the wind

as I watch leaves whirling 

tumbling

lifting into the air

and away

leaving trees

a little 

less 

clothed

every day.

words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

things i love about fall

i love...

1. a mix of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg & crabapples bubbling on the stove. 2.long walks in the nearby woods 3.picking crabapples 4. kicking piles of leaves into the air and watching sunlight catch them on the way down 5.lingering rays of sun on the front porch 6.being enraptured by fall's beauty through the lens  

7. long walks with people i love 8.  making jelly and apple butter 9. soft worn-out blue jeans and brown boots 10.cool, fresh air infusing our bedroom while we sleep  

11. out-door parties around the fire pit and homemade pizzas bubbling in the pizza oven 

12.ginger squash soup simmering 13.volleyball start-up  14. back-to-school pics on the front step 15. snuggling up to my husband under our feather duvet 16. savouring that "new beginning" feeling 17. watching kids with basketballs, volleyballs & skateboards on the driveway  18. sunflowers smiling against blue sky backdrop

 19. cool,damp mornings hugging and praying and waving at the doors 20. low golden sunlight streaming 21. geese splashing wildly in the river as they take off into flight 22. crunchy leaves under my feet 23. favourite wool hats  24. saving seed pods for next spring 25. cozying up in front of the fireplace

that's me...now what about you?

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

roots and blooms

I went for a walk a couple weekends ago while my daughter was at an early morning volleyball practice.  It was a gorgeous, cool, spring morning and truthfully, I stopped a lot more than I walked.  My intention was to walk over to a local coffee shop and spend a few quiet moments writing but I got a little distracted along the way.  Luscious blossoms everywhere were just begging to be touched and smelled and photographed.

When I finally arrived, the thought foremost on my mind was the transient beauty of spring.  The transient nature of beauty itself.

Spring always provides a feast for the senses.  Each year we are gifted with the opportunity to witness the stunning unfolding of fragrant new life, the sudden arrival of bold yet delicate buds and the warmth and sunshine that coax them into bloom.

There is something exquisite about a blossom opening to the world.  It is an image of courage and possibility.  It is beauty unspeakable, fragile, temporary.

I think we sometimes long for a life of endless spring, a life teeming with newness and dreams unfolding.  If only every day of our lives could look like such a spring morning, a shocking splendour of colour and texture and possibility.  But...there is no spring without winter.  And this is the part we disagree with; this is the part that we would likely do away with altogether if it was in our power.  After all, why suffer through the cold, the desolation, the dormancy, the dying?  And now, only a few weeks later, the blossoms have faded, the fragrance has passed and the glory of spring has lost its edge a little.  Spring surrenders to summer.

I guess this conversation makes me think about roots.  Unlike blooms, roots never have the spotlight.  They never arrive on the scene to take our breath away or inspire.  They are unseen and unexciting, simply growing deeper day after day, year after year, in every season.

I think I can sometimes spend too much energy trying to find ways to keep my life in constant bloom -- wanting it always to be colourful and interesting and new.  I want to see my dreams blossom (and preferably against a backdrop of dappled light, thank you very much!).  But given how quickly spring passes and the dreamy, fragrant petals fall to the ground, I think I would do better to spend my energy on growing deeper roots.

The creator and author of all eternity has a beautiful, perfectly crafted plan and his plan includes seasons -- all of them.  He works out his purposes, each in their own time.  Whether the ground is frozen or bursting with life, whether storm clouds build or the skies are cloudless blue, whether branches bend heavy with fruit or are stripped stark and bare, God is still faithfully and mercifully at work.

He is growing our roots.

Strong. Simple.  Beautiful.

Words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

life in transition

transitions

almost

imperceptible 

at times

a quiet whisper of change

  a slight shift of balance

a subtle transforming moment

when one thing nudges up against another

becoming new in the process

it can be a touch 

so gentle in passing 

that unless intentionally regarded

it slips away

unnoticed 

but sometimes 

like a growing, rushing wave

that meets the shore

with life altering force

transitions come

unexpected, untamed, unimagined

leaving us reshaped

unfamiliar

even to ourselves 

all that was buried

beneath layers of busyness

or soul distraction

or forward momentum

surfaces

everything is visible

uncontained

uncensored

just laying bare upon the surface 

of this life we've been building together.

It's a lovely sort of chaos

like modern art

hard to understand

but possibly beautiful.

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2016

September Rain

there's nothing like a few rainy days 

to inspire 

the shrugging on of a cozy, oversized hoodie 

and the rare indulgence 

of back to back episodes of a favourite show 

with anyone who's in the mood to watch

we've only a few evenings left 

that are gloriously unscheduled 

so perhaps we should just snuggle in

give ourselves over 

to the moody, grey clouds

and drizzled skies 

and enjoy this quiet, lazy pace 

borrowed, it seems, from a season that has 

quietly made its exit.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2015

letting go of summer...

my daughter...last moments of summer at the lake

from my journal just 10 days ago.....

I have already said goodbye to my family who have headed home and left me to happily finish the last of the cleanup and enjoy a final day at the lake by myself.  I am returning, just now, from a long, quiet stroll along the lake shore and I feel sad to think that summer is over.  Again, I've walked to the furthest stretch of beach I can -- all the way to the sandbars at the bend of the river's edge.  The warm splashes of water and soft press of sand in each step are a luxury I wish I could enjoy for just a while longer.  And of course, my pocket is full with a few more rock treasures to add to the growing collection on the fireplace mantle.

These daily walks along the beach, both alone and with those I love, have nourished this hungry soul of mine.  I have met with my Creator here.

it's just the swan and I......

The truth is, my mind hasn't quite caught up with the idea that summer really is coming to a close -- that daylight's long, golden rays have started yawning earlier these days, ready to take a rest from the extended hours of beautiful summer shining.  A part of me is still holding on, I think, to all that summer represents:  family, love, rest, peace, beauty, endless possibility.

Sandy Gingras, another women who loves water and beach, captured my sentiment exactly in these words:

We want to elongate the days, distill the memories, make them last.  At the same time we know that the beauty is in the evanescence....every wave comes in, then retreats.  Every day promises, then turns its back and slips away.  Every joy has a little tease in it, a give and take, and leaves a wake of longing......(from How to Live at the Beach. Emphasis mine)

Oh, yes,  "beauty is in the evanescence."  This phrase has such a profound impact on me.  If only I could really trust it to be true in the deepest parts of me, where I sometimes hold on the hardest.  And yes, how I relate to the "wake of longing" in the letting go.  Richard Paul Evans also phrased this idea so poignantly in his novel The Timepiece:  "At times I wish it were within my power to reach forth my hand and stop the moment--but in this I err.  To hold the note is to spoil the song." (Emphasis mine.)

It's eight o'clock in the evening now and I'm sitting in the sand along the water's edge.   The beach is a solitary place - just me and the gorgeous white swan I was hoping to see again, floating near the mouth of the river. There is a warm breeze teasing my frazzled, sun-bleached strands into tickles across my cheek.  The shore receives the subtle, rippled waves with a soft give -- each small lap etching a pattern further into its sandy embrace.

I am the shore.  I am supple to the shaping and moulding of all that has transpired this summer.  It leaves me feeling a little tender and vulnerable.  Each moment, happy and carefree or burdened and lonely, has etched its pattern into me.  I go home different than I came.  I have willingly reached out to new possibilities and in doing so, I have also let go.  This is good.

By the time I leave the beach tonight, the sullen sky shares no starry show...only dark, grey, billowy clouds that just might send a pitter-patter of rain song to lull me asleep.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2015 (except where otherwise cited)

first snow...the morning after

first snow...the morning after

it is stillness dazzling white...

it is a lone leaf whispering goodbye

to it's bare branch

and floating down to sleep on

blankets of fluffy jewels

glittering in sunbeams...

it is coolness welcomed in

through windows cracked open

and a crisp-air kiss

on a warm cheek turning rosy...

it is playful rhythms of

frosty melt

drip, drip, dripping off eaves

and flying free....

it is water blue

glanced through naked trees

and tiny teasing icicles

wanting to play at the liquid surface...

it is black and white magpie

hopping happy in the empty yard

finally king on his own

frosty bird-feeder throne...

it is pillowy white clouds

thrown onto sky-blue duvet

and painted jet-stream stripes

that disappear...

it is everything wrapped 

in stillness dazzling white.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

a step into autumn

It's always just one step, at first.  Even though I love almost everything about autumn, my other foot still drags a little --lingering in the last shadows of summer light.  For some reason, I'm hesitant to empty my pockets of summer's riches even though I know I need to make room for the new treasures I will discover on the paths ahead.
    

This making room --this letting go, it's the very thing I need in order to see beauty in this moment, to receive the gifts of the present. 

There are so many new paths to explore.

There are new palates of colors to fall in love with.

And if I am willing to keep my eyes wide open along the way (not closed in a day-dreaming revelry of yesterday's warmth), I wonder what I might find?

    

May your emptied pockets be filled with new gifts of beauty today.  


words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2013

wasn't it just yesterday?

....that our life was water

 playgrounds  

of river and lake 

to cool

to float our boat 

to forget school

to laugh and swim

to sit by and gaze at

and daydream?

....that our life was warmth

and freckles and sun 

and I followed the boys

just for fun

into the river - 

clothes and all

and who cares about hair

or hurrying?

...that our life was fresh

sweet cherries staining 

teeth and clothes 

and peach juice dripping

from chins to toes

an overflow of 

goodness and thanks

in every bite?

wasn't it just yesterday...

...that our life was together

 in early light snuggled

some afternoons huddled 

under canopy

of rain-drop symphony

storytelling faces

in strands of twinkle-light glow

thanks to husband 

who doesn't even know

he always brings light?

...that our life was transition

even while drenched 

in shades of green

and sun

a gentle knowing

that change would come

that summer treasures

get buried beneath

a pile of leaves turned gold

then snow

until who knows?

words and images © melody armstrong 2013

to unfurl

New life unfurls......quietly and secretly but always courageously. 

Year after year I am amazed that something so small and delicate as a crocus can push through even the hardest ground with a perfect mix of tenacity and quiet, breathless grace.  

I love crocuses especially, because they are one of the first secret signs of new life emerging after seemingly endless winters.  When everything is still brown and lifeless, these tender buds of purple break the spell of winter and replace despair with hope.

I think about the new growth surfacing in me.  Sometimes it seems so small, so hidden away in secret and barely noticeable that it might not even count.  But it does.  IT COUNTS!!  Every tender, green shoot that peeks through the sometimes cold, hard ground of life is a miracle I am meant to celebrate.  And so are you.

You may feel a little stuck right now in that in-between phase between winter and spring where there is so much potential, but nothing seems to be happening.  It's brown and dusty and new life still waits to unfurl.  Please don't discount the crocuses......the tiny buds in your life that are easily overlooked and sometimes even stepped on.  Don't miss the real wonder of it all --that new life is springing up all around in you.  Nothing can keep it back.  There is so much green just about to unfurl.  

Don't give up hope and be sure not to step on the crocuses.

word and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

turning point

A couple years back I had the privilege of travelling around part of Scotland with my mom, 82 at the time, and my sister.  The three of us girls had such an incredible time.  I loved driving on the left side of the road (with the steering wheel on the right--my husband would have been proud. ) It took some getting used to and was more than a little bit hilarious at times.

I remember being mesmerized by a gorgeous fishing village called Gardenstown, tucked snugly into the cleft of the steep northeast coastline.  While searching for somewhere to eat, we squeeked and  squeezed down this narrow street (that did NOT lead to any kind of restaurant) and then wondered how we'd ever get turned around.  The sign posted at the end of this block struck a funny bone that day:

No kidding!!!  We laughed, took a picture and turned our  rental car around, backing up and inching forward repeatedly until we finally pointed in the right direction and drove out the way we'd come.

As I sit thinking today about the narrow passages of our lives, the squeezed in, cramped up places where we inch our way forward only to arrive at a dead end, I think of that sign.   Though stating the obvious, it contains some poignant wisdom if we are attentive:  DO NOT PARK HERE.  This is not your destination.  This is not where you were meant to stay.  There's no room for you here.  THIS IS A TURNING POINT!

Ah.......turning point.  Yes!  This simple sign reads like a message of HOPE to those of us who are stuck -- stopped at a place where we never intended to be, never dreamed of being, probably never wanted to be.  When we're hemmed in on every side, it's hard to see that new possibilities are just at the end of this street and around the corner.

We forget that the landscape of our lives is vast and beautiful.  It will open up wide again.....we are just at a turning point, that's all.  There is hope.  Always hope.  So much hope. 

And yes, sometimes there is danger:

but could it be possible that the gravest, most imminent danger we face is losing sight of the One who is Eternal Hope?

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 


God whispers hope...a secret right into every listening heart --a secret so potent and powerful that the quiet knowledge of it silences all the banging noise and clamour of despair.   He offers Himself, eternal Light; the only way through our darkness: 

“For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”

-J.R.R. Tolkein in The Return of the King. 

photos and text © melody armstrong (unless otherwise cited) 

noticing...

Today I walk.  It's cool outside but I need to breathe -- deeply.   I huff and puff up the hill as fast as I can till my legs burn and I feel like I am coming alive again - rather than going into hibernation.

I crawl through a fence, an old habit that I haven't yet kicked of needing to explore the boundaries, and follow coyote tracks across fields to the edge of dense far-away woods.

As I make my way across the barren, ice-dusted praire grasses.....

I NOTICE   

this leaf

like me

so many colors

parts alive next to parts dead

sitting beautiful 

in an imperfect way

letting the snow melt

this tree

like me       

branches bare today

stripped of decoration

the shape of 

what was

what is

and what tomorrow 

will be 

this post

like me

wrapped in barbs

sometimes

old and new

rusty-sharp

piercing those close

this pretty weed 

in seed

like me

transforming, shedding

readying for winter

and spring

photos©Melody Armstong

Embracing Fall

laying on the road for this shot



I am a romantic through and through and so
I have always loved fall.  

For me, it is a season infused with magic -- from energy-filled walks on cool, crisp mornings to the warm sun streaming down on slow-paced afternoons.  I am enraptured by the wild display of blazing colors and transformation everywhere.

I wish I could bottle up fall’s fragrance so I could spritz it on my sheets and pillows. Fall is the back-to-school season, that deeply ingrained internal rhythm of fresh beginnings and renewed purpose.  Fall is about fullness and abundance, harvest and bounty.  It is farmer’s markets, wide smiling sunflowers, and crabapples eaten right off the tree.  It is jean-jackets, soft flowing scarves, and a favorite pair of boots.

last flower offerings from the Fall Farmer's Market

this is ME!

gift from a neighbour making my whole home fragrant

September in Banff, AB.

FALL IS ALL OF THIS, and SO MUCH MORE.  It is this “more” part of fall that I am not always as eager to embrace.

Fall is the closing of doors only recently flung wide open.  It is seeds falling into the ground, dying now for a harvest later.  It is a beginning of the dormancy - the waiting.  It is the letting go of summer and the surrendering to winter.  We can clutch and cling and grasp for yesterday, but it has already slipped through our fingers.  Fall is the quiet acceptance that all things change and that change is good -even necessary.

I love the way Nicole Nordeman describes the transition from summer to fall in her song Seasons, and the way she sees God in it all:

Every evening sky an invitation

To trace the patterned stars

And early in July, a celebration

For freedom that is ours

And I notice You in children's games

In those who watch them from the shade

Every drop if sun is full of fun and wonder

You are summer.

And even when the trees have just surrendered

To the harvest time

Forfeiting their leaves in late September

And sending us inside

Still I notice You when change begins

And I am braced for colder winds

I will offer thanks for what has been and what's to come

You are Autumn.....

As we continue forward in this gorgeous season -the celebration and culmination of all things summer, I ask you the same questions I am asking myself: are you willing to embrace all that this autumn season represents in your life?  Will you keep your eyes open for the ways God will show himself - not just in the bounty and harvest, but also in the rest, the dormancy and even the dying?  Will you recognize and offer thanks for the gifts He faithfully and lovingly provides - not just in the easy, warm summers of our lives, but also in the cold and barren winters?

My prayer for you today is that you may grasp the "extravagant dimensions of Christ's love.  Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God." 
(Ephesians 3:18b the Message translation) 


I invite your comments as you reflect on this post today. I'd love you to join the conversation.  

All photos © Melody Armstrong