Blustery wind and brisk fall leaves

Just got back from a bit of a too-short camping trip.

There's something about a glorious fall day that lifts up my heart and makes me feel like singing. I spent the weekend bundled up, drinking hot coffee on the porch, playing with friends, warming myself in front of blazing wood fires, kayaking and eating good food. The thing about camping is that food and sleep are always the most glorious for me when I top them off with some brisk cold air.

I can't even begin to do justice to a description of the Adirondacks this time of year, but I'll try: The fall leaves are out, though it is a tad late in the season for their full glory. There were fall rain showers in the late night and early morning, wind whipping up the color on our cheeks and fluttering gold and crimson fall leaves. The smell of earth and wood smoke and rain... the sounds of laugher carried on the wind. Rustic cabins with wood stoves and old farm tables for the gathering of family and friends by lamp light.

A trip with that many people can be a bear if the right mix isn't there -- but everyone was lovely and harmonious, as if they'd been hand picked. Which I suppose they were. Group time, alone time, pie-iron time and god-bless-america, pretty walk time.

I had many firsts. A first pie-iron sandwich, a naming, a first time seeing the quaint homestead and the broad porch worn smooth with the boots of friends. A first time to the island, a first pretty walk, and the first night in too many years where the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes were more stars than I could count or name.

On my last day, I paddled out to the island in the lake. I had the whole thing to myself and I sat in a sheltered niche on a bed of soft pine needles and painted a picture. It was the first time in a long time I'd felt that feeling of connecting to my joy in earthliness -- the seasons and of nature -- through my eyes and hands. The wind was cold enough so that I wore gloves, but it blew the rain and clouds from earlier in the day away. The sky became that cloudless lilac color unique to cold fall days. Across the lake the shore was punctuated by brilliant fall colors interspersed with the deep wisened green of the pines; colors that popped against the bright fall sky. I drew a picture of it, which was profound for me. It made me feel both content and happy, and also made me tear up for the loneliness I've carried in abandoning that connection for so long and for the sweet tender feeling it drew up in me to go back to that place.

Ever sat in a pile of cushy pine needles alone on an island watching the fall breathe around you? It's magic and profound, and I am grateful.