Autumn Light

The light at this time of year *is* just magical - whatever grumbles I might have about how short the days are all of a sudden, and how quickly we are speeding into Winter.  I am really savouring Autumn.  We did manage to slow down a little this week.  Feel the biting briskness of cold breezes, watch the leaves fall and swirl and fly in the wind, relax and lean into the long slow homely mornings just drawing and knitting and trying to get the laundry done.

I am feeling drawn into old rhythms.  Ones that circle and spiral and loop and weave in and out of touchstones like sleeping when we are tired, and eating when we are hungry.  There is always, at any given time, someone tired and someone hungry right now.  We are not synchronised, pulling against each other, and I want to slow down still further, make space and time for each other, fall in step with the dance.  Together.

In the meantime...  Rowan has started drawing representative figures, over and over, figures with bodies and limbs and hair and huge eyes - and often, wings.  Talia is signing milk, but never to ask, only ever to comment on the sight of my chest (!) or as I kind of happy reflex while she suckles.  I guess it's better than pinching me!

She is saying mama, dada, boo, and bubbye.  She waves, claps, does the actions to familiar rhymes, and jumps up and down in our laps roaring in our faces when she wants to play "row the boat".

(Yes, there is a verse about a lion.  The extra verses carry the weight of cannon with my children, and woe betide a parent that varies from the prescribed course.)

Today I asked them what makes a friend.  They clamoured their answers, "someone you like to spend time with", "someone you can tell anything", "who is fun", "who shares their sweets", "who likes me", "who I can trust".  Morgan said, "like a sister."  And then blushed, and wouldn't look at Jenna at all, who was pulling faces and saying that sisters aren't Proper Friends.  They started bickering then, over whether sisters could actually be friends, or whether they have a special category, or whether they are in fact simply too annoying to even bother with categorising.

Oh, my heart!  How I love the friendship between them, and how it aches when their words and actions hurt each other, and how I hope for a closeness someday that they really can turn to and rely on.  Ambitious, much?  Some days, honestly, I'll settle for them managing not to seriously injure each other by the time they are all grown and fled the nest.  But still, I hope.

Hope, and rhythm, and comfort, and home, and that golden light through leaves against the grey skies.  Things to carry and ponder and grow around, in this season of our lives.