My neighborhood feels like a storybook this time of year
October 7, 2021
My neighborhood feels like a storybook this time of the year. Yellowing trees line every block, and a venture out to the nearby park reserve provides a slow drive through rows of towering trees, their branches hovering in an arch over the road.
The trails stretch for miles, twisting and turning through over 2,500 acres of the prairie landscape, with trails, lakes, and slopes that were turned into ski jumps some years ago. It’s quiet, too. A midday visit to the park reserve’s main beach, at the center of the rectangular-shaped plot, feels like a secret only a few of us are in on.
Lately, I’ve made a point to take my walks around the neighborhood during golden hour, when the brightest leaves glow as they twirl off from their branches. I would never forgive myself if I let a season go by without making a point to experience this magic.
I’ve been taking a series of online writing classes this season. It’s been great to connect with local writers, albeit virtually, but following most of the writing prompts we’re given, I find myself short on words. I sit at the same desk I use for work, face the same monitors I do for team meetings, and I wonder why I can’t seem to catch an ounce of creativity.
But on the trails this fall, thoughts come and go to me musically.
In the opening class exercise for a one-day flash nonfiction class I attended recently, we were asked to introduce ourselves by writing a six-word memoir. It was an impossible exercise for me. I’ve learned I don’t do well with “flash”. But here I go anyway.
The other day my son and I paused after we walked the neighborhood to take in the pink and purple mums that have nearly fully bloomed in our front yard. Mums only last a few weeks, so you have to make their existence count. I think often about how this will be the last first fall he’ll ever have. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet, but there’s a sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia for me and I carry it on my shoulders.
But that’s the beauty of this season, I think. Its magic feels urgent. Those of us who’ve been around for a while know a wild storm could change it all in an instant.
The first freeze always settles on untidy lawns, browned by leaves in nature’s form of littering. Fall passes the baton to winter slowly, until quickly, it is gone.
Things I’ve loved this past week
“The great resignation is here, and it’s real.” This article explains why people are quitting their jobs at a higher than usual rate, and what employers can do about it.
An older TedTalk by Jedidiah Jenkins, which I’ve discovered at just the right time for me. In the video, he theorizes how we can better engage with life so as to slow down the feeling of time passing.
This article about gymnast Simone Biles and her withdrawal from the finals during this summer’s Olympics in Tokyo. “I should have quit way before Tokyo,” she says. Thanks for being an inspiration to all of us, Simone. Oh, and f the haters.
A recent Happiness Lab podcast episode about how to have more fun.
Reported today by MPR News, the news that Maya Angelou, Sally Ride and other trailblazing women will be featured on U.S. coins.
What I’m listening to
The new(ish) album by Billie Eilish, Happier Than Ever. This has been on repeat for me as of late, and I’m struck more deeply by the lyrics every time I listen to it.
What I’m reading
“The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why it Matters” by Priya Parker
My “Last Week Look-Back” posts are me at my most honest: an unpolished spewing of reflections and ramblings on - well, whatever comes to mind, really.
I intend to post these at least bi-monthly, but hey - life gets busy. So I hope you’ll check back often, and follow me on Instagram at @wordsby_jennamarie for updates.
I’m so glad you’re here. Thanks for reading!