Darling, my Honeybee

It's been a busy fall season, it always is.  But Sunday, we woke up with a clean slate of a day and the whole world outside our windows had that golden hue of fall.  With midterms, Cruz's birthday, big family pictures, and Beau's surgery on the other side, the weight off my shoulders and the spring in my step led me and the crew to one of our favorite fall places to skip under the leaves.  The entire parking lot was full of other leaf peepers, but we soon found ourselves wonderfully lost under the canopy of golden trees.  We gathered some sticks for our thankful tree, Mila carried her little Dorothy basket and stopped every few steps to gather just one more leaf, and Cruz found a stick as always, only this time naming it his Grimm Reeper stick and carrying on a lengthy conversation with his little sister about "sticky's" first time out of the woods and into the big city life.  I just paid attention to it all.  The fresh fall air in my lungs, the leaves dancing off the trees to the ground below my feet, the rustling sound above that signaled shorter days to come.  The changing of the seasons and the beauty of another autumn will always leave me in awe.  The trees look like shades of the most vibrant box of crayons and everything carries a quiet whisper to slow down and savor it all.

We walked for hours that day, walking along off-the-beaten paths and dodging muddy trails, and picking burrs off each other's backs.  And then we came to a fork in the road and chose a way that led to a little lake we hadn't discovered since Cruz was a little baby hoisted up on Beau's shoulders.  We both vividly remember that hike and the way Cruz would keep leaning over to peek at Beau and snuggle his cheek.  We hopped along a little trail that led to an island that had everything we needed for lots of dreaming.  A perfect tree for climbing or lounging, a sand shore for toe dipping or kayak floating, a quiet secluded spot for hammock naps or a starry tent sleep.  We made plans, the four of us.  Plans for hot cocoa hikes this winter, date nights for just me and Beau, nature journals, and sunset summer nights.  Then we named her Honeybee and decided this little lake would be our perfect little secret.

  
We took our time finding our way back home, hand in hand, dreaming about all the plans we have together.  Plans for sticky's new home in our garage, lasagna for dinner, baths before bed, and adventures in the woods. Always.

Ordinatrily, I go to 
the woods alone, 
with not a single
friend, for they are
all smilers and
talkers and
therefore 
unsuitable.

I don't really want
to be witnessed
talking to the
catbirds or
hugging the old
black oak tree.  I
have my way of praying, as you no
doubt have yours.  

...If you have ever
gone to the woods
with me, I must
love you very
much.

Mary Oliver