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Is anyone... listening?
I'm glad you've come to sit beneath the oaks with me and listen to the wind. With luck, these oaks, that moist, silky breeze, everything I call home will sustain me. I've not given up on life or hope or dreams--those are a part of me and always will be--but things change, people change, lives change, and sometimes we give up something great.. for something infinitely better. It is August 19, 2007 and I am sitting here in darkness contemplating the unknown, looking at the box filled with unfinished business of doll painting, the stack of disks next to the computer, all empty and waiting for music or art to fill them. And in acceptance I will move on to deeper matters of the soul.... The story in short: I've only been asked a small number of times what "Autumn Whispers to Me" actually means. The story, while significant to me, is simple, really.... Lakewood, Colorado: I was 13 when I first had my 'true' experience with fall weather, the change. Having been raised on the California coast, "autumn" was a new experience for me. The actual 'event,' if you will, began with one walk to and from a family friend's home one somewhat blustery fall day. It was nearing dusk, my favorite time of day, and the world seemed awash in gold, red and yellow. The breeze was chilly, and I wasn't wearing a jacket. Wrapping my arms against the chill I began my walk home. The trees were showering leaves across the pavement as I walked, and I loved the sound of them rushing about, the way they sounded brushing against each other in the trees before they fell. As I walked my imagination soared, and I was suddenly hearing... voices? Whispering, I thought. So I stopeed, scared, and looked about. No traffic on this particular avenue...only myself, the leaves, surrounded by autumn...whispering. I knew I couldn't possibly be hearing actual voices, but in my overly imaginative 13yr old mind...I enjoyed the awe of such a sound. I was somewhat afraid, but far more captivated than anything as I stood there listening...and watching. The cold did eventually send me on my way again, but the thought that autumn whispered to me... wouldn't leave, and that experience has been with me ever since. Each year, if possible, I would walk down that same avenue at dusk, at the very height of fall when the red and gold leaves still clung to the limbs in a chill and whispering story. And I would walk and listen for the voice of autumn; the voice that whispered to me then, and the memory that whispers to me still. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for stopping by.... Autumn
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