October is nature’s funeral month.
Nature glories in death more than in life.
The month of departure is more beautiful
than the month of coming – October than May.
Every green thing
loves to die in bright colors.
~Henry Ward Beecher
I don’t know…
I myself feel pretty drab these days, gray and fading,
with ripples and wrinkles, more fluff than firm.I’m reminded to hang on to an October state of mind:
more raucous color than somber funereal attire
so when it is time to take my leave,
I go brightly, in joyous celebration of what has been~~
and knowing, without any doubt,
where I’m heading as I wander down the road a piece.
Nobody can keep on being angry if she looks into the heart of a pansy for a little while.
The world is in sore need of a cure for the grumbles. Just glance (just glance, don’t dwell!) at the headlines.
Fortunately, the cure exists right outside in our back yards, along sidewalks and in vacant lots. A cheerful face is irresistible to all but the crabbiest among us, guaranteed to bring a smile every time.
Beyond the pansy’s obvious superficial charm exists a depth of heart — roots able to thrive in the thinnest of soil, at home among rocks and weeds, resilient even when tromped on.
We carry its seeds on the tread of our boots in spite of our grumbling and help spread the good news: anger left unfed will dry up and blow away.
And we’re thankful the constant heart of the pansy lasts in all its diversity, generation after generation. Thriving in some of the toughest, sparest, and most unforgiving places, it still, and always, smiles back.