Giving Birth, Moving, Marrying, and Dying

We are teetering on the very brink of fall these last days in September.  Although the autumnal equinox occurred yesterday at 4:02 p.m., it still feels like summer.  Afternoon thundershowers continue to pop up, and the humidity hangs in Clear Creek Valley just as it does during the summer.

And yet the leaves are hurrying down from our big poplar tree, piling up in the yard, completely covering the driveway and the car.  Walking and running, there is a fragrance in the air as if someone is baking spiced cookies - that wonderful aroma of fallen leaves.

Today I capped off my half marathon training with another 12-mile run, circling round and round through familiar neighborhoods, almost entirely by myself.  It seemed more difficult than two weeks ago, partly due to the humidity; I was drenched in sweat after the first three miles and stopped at every drinking fountain I could find.  But it was lovely and fragrant in the shade, one of those days when thoughts seem to take wing and solitude seems like a precious gift.

On the eastern shore of Harris Lake, someone had erected a small white tent, square and with a big bunch of white balloons tied to one of the posts.  I had never seen a wedding here before, but sure enough, as I passed this same place many times, cars began to park on the shoulder of the road and well-dressed folks began to arrive for the nuptials.  I thought I heard music as I approached from around the bend on my last loop, but I must have missed the bridge and groom.  What a perfect day and place for a wedding! - not a breath of wind stirring the surface of the lake, and at one point it looked as if the ducks were all keeping a respectful distance, out on the water facing the tent, watching this ritual of promise and hope.

On my next loop, I heard our friend Lee's loud cheerful voice, laughing and talking to a woman in the driveway of that new house just this side of Satulah Ridge Road; I thought she was saying something about giving birth and dying.  I circled back and called out, "All right, I have to hear these words of wisdom.  What was that about dying and giving birth?"

Lee laughed.  "Three things you have to do in this life:  give birth, move, and die.  I'm helping my friend move!"

So I continued on, circling Harris Lake one more time, here in the morning shade, moving and watching the ducks and the vacated marriage tent, shuffling my feet a little in the leaves by the side of the road, on this glorious Saturday in Highlands.