The beans are in and other gifts by Liz Flaherty

October is my favorite month of the year, except for when it's May. (I keep throwing that disclaimer in everywhere, because I'm fairly certain I'll be chirping about May in six or seven months.) I love the deepness of October's colors and the range of its sounds. Its scents and  textures lend comfort to virtually every circumstance in which I may find myself. I embrace the fact that it's a forever parallel for living life (and writing books) in layers. Therefore creating textures. And depth. And range. 

Speaking of depth...and range, I just read a blog post about mature love versus infatuation by Jenny Crusie. In the middle of it was this quote: "...they both know that their love can be beaten to airy thinness and will not break, it’ll become the air they breathe, always bringing them back to each other." 

I read the quote and read it again and realized that was my gift for today. It touches and wraps gauze around long relationships, exposing not only their longevity but their frailty, too.

That's another thing I love about October, the fact that it showers us with such

gifts. If you're a farmer, as many are where I live, you will spend days on end in fields, reaping the rewards of seeds sown in spring. The weariness will find its way to your very bones, and you'll spend the month with droopy eyes, but you will find satisfaction in the gifts of harvest. You'll be reminded of why you do what you do. At church this Sunday, as we exchanged joys and concerns, one of the farmers said, "The beans are in," and we all felt the depth of his joy. The range. 

It is salad time for me, not only because I know the holidays--and the obligatory annual five pounds--are coming soon, but because of all the tastes and smells that are around every sensory corner at this time of year. It's when my heart goes back to Keep Cold Orchard, in Nice to Come Home To, and I am reminded that setting is one of the most important characters in a book.

October seems to do that for me. It establishes my setting and gives me a kind of peace I don't always have. It leads me into November, the month of gratitude, and sets the table of blessings for the rest of the year.

This post is even more scattered than usual. Just pretend it's a jigsaw puzzle that will be something beautiful when it's put together. Another gift of October.