Sunday Morning

The air is crisp, fall has returned once again. In the wood stove, embers burn from last nights fire. Its a morning for applesauce and pancakes smothered with maple syrup. There is a little nip in the air, making me pull my old wool shawl a bit tighter around my shoulders. The sky is so blue this morning, robin egg blue. Glorious, really.

Its a morning for a long stroll through the trees, to watch squirrels hiding pecans and walnuts. To see leaves falling like confetti in the gentle morning breeze. To hear your footsteps crunch on the fallen leaves. There is a scent of autumn in the woods, pleasant and earthy.

It makes the little world around me seem sacred, holy and so telling of the handiwork of God. I can feel His presence.

William Penn once wrote... "If we better studied and understood God’s creation, this would do a great deal to caution and direct us in our use of it. For how could we find the impudence to abuse the world if we were seeing the great Creator stare us in the face through each and every part of it?" Oh how true ! If we would just look with open eyes to see the love of the Creator in each of His masterpieces.

In the silence of this golden morning, where the pale and pure gold of sunrise, meets with the blue of heaven, I can hear that small still voice.