Mystical Mundane

I was really starting to wonder. NOT that I am one of those depressing sorts that want clouds and gloom... but what I DO love is the crispness in the air, the way the sun brings such joy to a cooler day instead of bringing sweltering heat as in the summer.

Toward Morning Sometimes when I wake up early in the morning before it is light, I hear my baby talking in his crib. If I rise upon my elbow very gently so that he will not see me, I can see him there in the dim light, dark eyes with his fat hands clasped together or patting one another. All the while he makes those tender, inarticulate sounds in his own language. To whom is he speaking in the dark, toward morning? He is still so near Heaven, this little one - is he talking in the language of the angels to some visitor invisible to me, but seen by his pure eyes? Is he making a report of his day’s events, his own progress, or asking after the welfare of others he loves in the land he left so short a time ago? Perhaps the angel who cared for him comes in that holy hour, to sit with and love him yet awhile...toward morning - Author Unknown

The Autumn Equinox is one of my favourite times of the year. Light and Dark are balanced, and then from that day forward, the day begins to lose the battle with the night. The inward spiral that began even as the sun was at it's zenith at the Summer Solstice becomes more evident. Though the days are still hot, there is a crispness to the air as the sun sinks into the ocean. There is a change in the smell on the wind.