Battle With Routines

The "Bob Tree" Dropping Leaves

There’s something to say about routine.  I watch the birch, the maple, and the burning bush unfold their fall fashion.  Right on time.  Who knows?  Maybe this is their favorite time of the yearly cycle. During the summer each leaf on each branch works every sunlit hour to make food.  Fall comes and it’s a rest time.

Truckey Street Maple in Bloom

The monarchs flit around, leaving St. Ignace, right on time.  The geese magically forming a V to fly south.  The dew heavier as each day goes by.  It doesn't need to be a surprise it will soon turn to ice.  It’s routine. 

Autumn Leaves on the Pavement

The St. Ignace Boarwalk

When the sunlight cycle gradually becomes shorter, I start to fight the change in the season.  I resist the inevitable.  I rarely focus on the weather as intently as I do when fall is about to merge into winter.  I want each day to become longer, not shorter.  I want to wear sandles longer.  I want to jump in the lake twelve months of the year and not swat at bugs while I walk... Ever.

Bay of St. Ignace, Showing a New Season

I’d like to get myself to flow more gently with the change of seasons.   I want to help my internal battle. Because the four seasons will proceed with their routine. I’m the one who needs to relax and focus on my own seasonal routines. They’re there, waiting to be tapped into. 

Heavy Fog Behind an Early Morning Boat Heading Out
(Typical on Lake Huron in Autumn)

The Fresh Lake Water Looks Clear as Ice

Just like birth comes before death. It’s all routine, but we still fight it like holy hell.  I smile when I think of the three, recent, family babies that were just born.  Sailor, Emma, Roslyn and Annalise.  My sisters and brothers having grandchildren is part of the aging routine.  

Our gray hairs becoming more obvious each time we meet, seems to be part of this routine, too.  Our bodies giving out, giving up, and giving pain is as predictable as the four new babies eventually cutting teeth, learning to walk and grasping for their independence.

I love to find surprises.  It’s a personal characteristic.  I think it will help me overcome being obstinate and battling the seasons.  I hope I can use this quality to let the seasons surprise me instead of needlessly frustrating me.  The Indian Summer, I’m wallowing in, is just the kind of surprise I’m talking about. 

Vines With Red Berries, Creeping along the steps

A Vine on the Shore, Creating a Circle With Red Leaves

Bright Green Clover, Popping Out One Last Time Before Winter

Towering Maple on P.M. Brown's Lawn,
Framed by the Cedars

Early Morning picture of My Shadow, on Main Street

When I see a loved one fighting for life each day,  I want to look for surprises.  Do I know their favorite color?  Do I know what memories they savor? What dreams they’ve realized?     

Routine has merit.  It can be gentle.  If I let it go and let it in, without so much panic, drama and struggle, I think I will be happier.

I won't be quoted saying breaking with routine isn't marvelous!!  But, some things just aren't worth the fight, because there's only one side punching.  The other side has a victory smile on their face before the battle even begins.

Fall will bring shorter daylight hours.  Winter will follow autumn.  Life won't be fair.  And surprises are always there if we look for them.