Moody Monday's: Falling for Fall

tlpoague

Today is the first day of fall. A season I love...and not just because my birthday is coming up soon. It holds so many special memories of hard work, family coming together, and joyous moments.

I love to get up early to watch the sun rise over a background of changing colors. Smelling the harvest upon the shifting cool breeze, I imagine tasting my favorite holiday dishes. I can feel the change of the season deep within my bones. Eyes closed, I listen to the migration of the birds. Their sounds can be heard for miles. Words can't describe the feeling of enjoyment in those few precious moments as I sit there, sipping my coffee, praising God for his canvas of artwork.

photo by tlpoague

This last weekend was a celebration of sorts. It was a non-stop garage sale for three days along Hwy 36. I glanced at a few but mostly hung out with my sisters. We talked of nothing important, chatted with the customers, and soaked up the last bits of summer sun, before the cold of winter sets upon us.

I decided with the changes in the air it was time to do some of my own. Yesterday, I took the time to do some cleaning, decorating, and re-organizing. (It was pretty hard not to do it the Redneck way.)

photo by tlpoague

It reminded me of the times, as a child, we would scurry around to clean before company came. Company meant a time of hard work celebrated with food, fun, and long cherished stories. It was a time when the women would gather around the table, and stove, canning precious food for the winter ahead. The men would gather their guns and head out for some hunting. The children annoyed by the thoughts of school and missing out in the fun, would dash home, eager to be a part of the activities.

photo by tlpoague

I remember my grandmothers, aunts, and mother, teaching me the trades of being a homemaker. There were sewing and crocheting lessons, canning fruit, veggies, and jams, and prepping the meat harvest the men brought home. I still remember the stories that were told, legends that were created, and the laughter.

This weekend is another celebration. It is called the Feast of Trumpets.

It is a time to purge the old, both physically and spiritually, to make room for the new. It is also a time to come before the Lord to give thanks for his blessing. To praise and worship him. A time when we should be watching for Jesus's return to gather his harvest.

I can't wait for the celebrations to start.

What are you plans to celebrate the first day of Fall?  

Does Your Housework Rule You Or Do You Rule Your Housework?

photo by tlpoague

Have you ever had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you tried to reach a goal, it just does not happen? That was my week this last week. Every time I sat down at my computer to write...something would come up. Even now, with headphones on and music in my ear, I am being interrupted with random questions.
My week started out with a simple task. One that should not have required nearly seven days...and counting...to complete. I was going to tackle my craft/writing room once and for all. Purging the things I knew I didn't need anymore and attempting to organize the rest without using the Redneck method. I decided that the simplest way to get started was to clear the floor of all the boxes that had accumulated there. (Ack, I wished I would have thought to take before and after pictures.) Moving and organizing boxes were easy till Mr. P came downstairs needing me. Suddenly I realized that I had boxed myself into the room. It took some balance and gritting a few teeth before I could extract myself to see what was so important. I never did get back down there to finish that night.
Day two began with an early morning phone call. My mother...at 5:45 am! She had called to see if I wanted to join her for coffee. "Coffee? Where? At...what time is it again? You are where again?" Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my brain finally registered that my mother had drove across four states to come for a surprise visit. What a surprise that was! Cleaning on day two was out, along with the writing I had planned.
Day three and four were spent supporting my family as my middle sister faced additional grief to go with the loss of her husband nearly a year ago.
Day five was looking pretty promising. A little coffee, some eggs, and a plan found me heading down the stairs on a mission. It lasted less than 20 minutes when I was summoned back up the stairs. At this rate I knew I wouldn't be getting back to my writing as soon as I had planned, but at least I would be spending the day with my grandson.
Day six found me still snuggling under my mountain of comfortable blankets as a fierce wind beat upon the house. A cool, whistling, breeze found its way through cracks and crevices. Listing to the howl, feeling the cold, I was now dreading my mission downstairs. How could a simple chore become a daunting task? Groaning, I rolled over. Images of multiple stacks of books and a blinking icon on a white computer screen interrupted my slumber. It was going to take a lot of coffee to coax me from my cocoon but finally I gave it up. Again I didn't get far down the stairs before I was summoned. Good grief!
Day seven. I have put my foot down. No interruptions till I have finished my task at hand. I have sorted more books than I care to count, placing them in the appropriate boxes to be passed along to friends and family. Those I plan on reading have been placed on shelves. Empty boxes and totes surround me. My crafts are still cluttering up places but tomorrow is another day. I finally can sit and write. It may be a boring post, but at least I can say, "I finally posted one!"
Let's see what chaos next week brings. Maybe I can add it to my "Little Box of Craziness".