I did not marry a literary kind of man. I, on the other hand, love books, articles, the written word. I come alive in bookstores and libraries calm me. I love the smell of a new book, the way it has a little creak when you open it. I do not own an electronic reading device and I still make trips to the local library to choose my books.
When I read something that speaks to me, whether it’s a book, a character, descriptive language, a quote, whatever, I always want to share it with someone. This someone happens to be my husband.
I don’t know how long after we were married, after I had orated paragraph after paragraph of various topics to him, that my husband informed me he hated being read to. It just about broke my heart. So now, I carefully choose my sharing times and always ask him if I can please read something to him. He’s never told me no, he just endures it. As is the husband’s job in marriage. It should have been in the vows.
But before you start feeling sorry for me, just know that my little girl, EK, loves books. Even thought she is only almost 8 months old, she shows delight in them. She loves to pull every one off the shelves, chew on their covers, and eat their pages, which I think must be a sign of fondness. Or genius. Or perhaps just a nutritional deficiency, I guess only time will tell.
I get a free magazine called The Country Life. It comes out quarterly and gives tips and inspirations for country living. Things like how to arrange a fall flower container and the top 10 tools needed to get your home ready for winter. Stuff like that.
But the very last part is an article written by a guy named Brent Olsen. It’s very excellent writing in my opinion and makes you feel like all is right in the world. So I asked my husband if I could read it to him, and even he agreed it was good.
And because I love to share things that speak to me, I now share it with you.
“Fall is a wonderful time of year. A deep breath on a crisp morning expunges moist, stale pockets of air that have been cluttering your lungs all summer. There’s a sense of urgency, an acceleration of pulse and ambition that turns the tired, sweaty trudge of summer into a brisk walk through falling leaves. Winter is about enduring and dreaming, spring is unreasonable optimism, summer is growth and fruition-new potatoes and fresh tomatoes. But fall is for planning and preparing.
It’s also about sitting on the patio in a worn wool sweater and warming your hands one the swirl of steam rising from a coffee cup. It’s about walking across a darkened yard and seeing a flight of geese cross the face of a full moon. It’s about settling in, relishing the sights and sensations of a world slowing down.
A house warmed by the memory of a sore back and splinters, and a kitchen table blessed by food there as a result of dirty fingernails, sunburn, and compost is a great and generous gift. Enjoy your fall—we are each granted a finite number of them, and it is a vast mistake to let any go by without cherishing the moments that make them real.”
Fall and words: these are a few of my favorite things.
And you? What are your favorite things?
Angel Wheeler 