I have been absolutely obsessed with the sky lately, which you know if you’ve been watching our Instagram or Facebook pages. The humidity is gone. The almost constant rain is over. And the skeletons of the trees are starting to show. I could stare up forever in these days.
Milo seems to have the same fascination. He lays on our bed and plays a lot while I work nearby at the dining room table. (Yep, the master bedroom is this cobbled farmhouse is off the dining room.) Sometimes, he grows quiet, and I look over to see him staring at the sky through the big picture window that overlooks the barn. He’s rapt.
For many years, I forgot to look at the sky. I was so focused on the work – student papers, writing projects, reading assignments, meeting minutes – that I simply kept my head down, chugging along. But as I’ve released most of those things, grieving them as they left, I’ve begun to look up more often because the mystery – for me – is often in what goes on over my head, both literally and figuratively.
The science of sky – meteorology, astronomy, cloudology (that’s a thing, right?) – are all amazing, important practices, and I revel in the discoveries there. But for me, it’s enough to sit in the presence of something I do not understand, to marvel at a Creator who set in motion a world that is surrounded by molecules combined in just the right way that I can walk around amongst it, not notice it but be sustained by it. Ah, the metaphor of air.
So today, friends, may I nudge you to lift your heads. Revel in the autumn sky. Grow rapt by it. It’s a mystery of gift and life.
Don’t forget to mark your calendars and join us for our annual craft fair on Dec. 1. There’s a firm possibility we’ll have locally-made mead available for tasting.
9am-4pm in our barn. Free. Everyone is welcome.