overwhelmed with gratitude

In the middle of contemplating my troubles (I whine a lot) and worrying about all the things in my life that I wish were different, I looked up this morning to see a golden shower of leaves wafting gently down to the ground. The maples' leaves have flushed red and everywhere sunshine glowed through the trees. Suddenly I was overcome by the abundance of it all, the light shining from within each glorious leaf, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the butternuts littering the drive by the garage, the squirrels busy, running back and forth along the cedar rail fence.

As I potted up some of the tender plants that summered on the deck, I laughed to hear the chipmunk scolding, for I had taken over "his" greenhouse for a while.

I glimpsed the large, dark wingspan of something flying past overhead, but wasn't quick enough to catch a proper look.

Even a Mourning Cloak appeared briefly at the kitchen window, then flitted over the house to skip across the back deck.

The sun set in pastel shades of peach, pink and mauve.

I thought, this is the last of many glorious days for a long time. Winter is coming. Among my worries is the fact that I haven't planted those garlic bulbs yet.

The din of the blackbirds flocking in the trees about my home was nearly deafening.

And then, as my shoes squashed dozens of fallen crabapples in the drive, I thought, it doesn't matter. Whatever will be, will be. Just as I didn't even think of preserving some of the crabapples, I can't hold on to it all. My job is simply to try to remember to pay attention to the golden showers when they fall. Soon the ruby leaves outside my bedroom window will also fall and all winter long, I will be able to lie on my bed at night and see millions of stars through the bare limbs of the trees.

More abundance. I humbly realize I keep forgetting to pay attention to the abundance.