(almost) crisp autumn days

I may be not-so-silently urging fall on its way, but with a long, difficult LA summer of over 90 degree days, I’ll take an unseasonably warm Seattle September, no question. Hours after I arrived, I was off foraging for ferns and pine needles and golden leaves. There was no waiting for fall, knowing it didn’t quite arrive on September 23rd. There was finding pieces of it in the (almost) crisp air and on the cool ground. 

Comfort is an interesting thing. In its absence, even the littlest tasks are monumental. There is a looming uneasiness. In its presence, it’s not something to be thought of often, but occasionally and with a fleeting contentment. And if you’re from the Pacific Northwest, the leaves and the green make a portrait of comfort.

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I’ve been back and forth what feels like constantly lately but is really just a bit more travel than I’m used to, and now temporarily rooted in my hometown, I’m trying to get myself in a groove and not be so hard on myself and get things done, but at my pace. It’s a balance and balance hasn’t been my strong suit because it’s not something I particularly believe in, I believe in focusing on single tasks (something very best explained here), which is quite nearly impossible with a mind that doesn’t compartmentalize, but thinks of things as a whole and as their parts, all mingling together carelessly. But I’m also realizing for everything you’re away from, there’s something you’re closer to.