October
I almost wore my October earrings today — little Lego skeleton heads that dangle on silver wires.
I didn’t — because it isn’t October and that might be the only fashion rule I follow — but I wanted to.
We’re well into the dog days of summer here and what is typically the hottest part of the year. The flowers are blooming, the morning humidity rises hazily from the lakes, and the mosquitoes feast on us poor humans at sundown. It’s summer, and nothing about this week feels like October.
But ah! October—
with crystal skies and rays of light
that gild the sun-scorched fields,
while crimson leaves
dance revelries
‘twixt tree and the harvest yield…
I wanted to wear my October earrings today because I wanted to remember that autumn is waiting in the wings. That nothing in this life remains the same unless we force it to. That the stars still spin across the skies like they have since the dawn of time, and after Sirius makes his bow we have a whole year before he comes again — a year of love and laughter, of joy and sorrow, and of fasting and feasting — an entire year to trace the ancient paths and count the moments of goodness and mercy that follow us through this dance.
As L.M. Montgomery once said, I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.