Thursday 5:30 am…I just stepped outside to survey the day so far. A vast contrast to yesterday morn when I drove through dense fog for the first thirty miles of my drive to Walla Walla…Then, at the Wallula gap a breeze had stirred and the fog gave way to a serene vista of the mighty Columbia River and the gorge she had carved long before men trekked over the bend on her way to the warm Pacific…
But days and life are sometimes cloaked in fog and haze…when one knows the destination sought, but each step reveals little but the need for another, in wait of that clearing breeze, that ray of dawn’s sun…And in looking back it is a wonder how the journey was made, so we look upon the success of the drive, and feel grateful for the strength to have stayed the unclear course…Her’s to a clear day and safe passage to the hours that follow dusk…huddle together against the morning chill, and bask in the brief afternoon spell of warming sun. Matthew…
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Have a great day all, and please…let someone know they are loved and that they truly matter. When you do so, you will in turn also be loved and matter yourself.
Make a difference…it is free and worth a million smiles.
Matthew
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You’ll scarcely appreciate what you’ll get, if you don’t daily give thanks for what you got…
(a Matthew-ism)
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Sunday afternoon…the shadows are growing long. September lingers still with its subtle reminders…and November is about to board at the station of time…Regardless of my wishful thinking, leaves will soon descend and meet me at boot level and give way to the remnants of sunny hours that dwindle as the solstice of winter waits in the wings.
It is a yearly ritual, the dance between nature and I, turning my back to the chilled breeze, my face to the midday sun. Turning my ear to the changing chorus of the winds as the branches empty and the notes of the storms fade from a low moan to an empty sad sigh…
My steps become a bit more urgent, my hands will fill pockets in search of warmth…and dusty gloves will soon be shook free of the warm month’s exile in a coat pocket or seasonal drawer. Longer sleeves soon step back into the fray after months tucked away. And before my breath can be seen in the shade, I will return again to thoughts of friends gathering there around the flames, around the tables, around the bend where we’ll find each other…hiding behind smiles and handshakes and quiet sighs.
And I will greet the frost with gratitude, with respect and a nod…for it had the strength to bring the fairer season to her knees, and ushered in the shades of autumn…the passing of days in dwindled hours.
And I will look to you for a warm embrace, a hand to hold, and love the sight of a cold weather tear there in your eyes…and I will tend the fires, in the hearths and hearts…and burn the midnight oils, not in wait of spring and summer, but in gratitude for the one just passed.
I’ll see you in the yard, with a rake there in your hands, and send a wave and knowing smile as we tend to the tasks and glance at the setting sun, and Canada geese on the wing, come home to graze and nest while the darker months pass…Happy autumn friend.
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Life is too short to spend it angry…and life is too long to spend it angry. Don’t spend your life, friends…LIVE it…Matthew Landsman
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Fall and October are being ushered into the Northwest on blustery wings and benign clouds here in the desert. All at once the things of summer here gave way and were added to memories of all that was before…While I rolled up my watering hoses and put sprinkler heads away yesterday, I came to realize this is the advent of my fifty fourth autumn…I was born in the time of frost and dwindling daylight in the midst of October then…
I am still able to wander out into the day in short sleeves, but she is coming once again…the chilly mistress who decorates the trees in shades of orange, brown, red and gold. She is coming, accompanied by shorter days and lengthened nights…she is coming to remind me, that time is passing, and there will soon be a change of the calendar…and a fresh new year to embrace…she is coming once again. Autumn, in all her glory…Take care with you…Matthew
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Today, I don’t have to do anything…Today I GET to do EVERYTHING…
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Fall is comin…winter too,
Its 97 here on the first day of September.
There’s a lot of my life I kinda wanna forget
But I swear it’s you I always remember.
I’ll go walking, recall the nights we made love for hours,
and dawn would find us there.
With a light down low in the hallway…
while we watched the sunrise.
Whispering and sighing,
And quietly talking.
Fall is comin…winter too…
I found dew on my windshield a couple mornings ago,
and a few resigned leaves in the breeze…
Talking to me as they shuffled down the street,
leading me to where I was about to go.
I heard our song on the radio, then I chose yet another.
Then I sat half way thru a green light,
’cause my eyes refused to let me see…
that it was time to move on.
Kinda the way it was with you and me.
In my sleep we still get along…
still laugh and curl up close.
And go searching for mushrooms
up where the logging roads go.
And after we parted to fill our paper bags
we met up again to compare our bounty…
Then we made love again in the shade of an evergreen.
Summer’s ending,
and sunset comes earlier every day.
And dawn will soon be easier to greet,
after a while it will pass long after our workin day begins.
Then there will be the first frosty dawn,
I’ll feel the chill of a northern breeze.
And I’ll embrace the memory of a winter morning
feeding your horse in a chilled ancient barn…
and I’ll long to feel that muzzle softly taking the apple from my open hand.
And I’ll remember the day you left mine there empty too…
Fall is comin…winter too…
and I’ll play that song again,
Soft and low…and I’ll sigh a lonesome sigh.
And long for that December
that seems so long ago…
Matthew
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Good morning all. I can see the sun making its debut for the day beyond the eastern horizon. Life is already stirring in the steady flow of traffic heading to the Hanford projects…I scarcely envy them that daily grind…As for me, I head in the opposite direction and journey through a place largely untouched by time. I embrace the small towns and large farms, pastures hosting cattle and horses with bounding young colts nursing and testing wobbly legs.
I can’t help but notice the dwindled numbers of barns and humble old homes being called back to the earth from where their materials came…It is sad to see the empty patch of ground with barely a hint of foundation left. And one feels a twinge when the reminders of lives spent there so long ago, fade into memory as nature reclaims what was truly hers all along. The desert has a way of covering the tracks of others…
I hope all of you have a good day…and even though this is the middle of the week, don’t wish the next three days away…they could be the best days of all, if you just give them a chance to matter. Be well, Matthew
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Matthew Lyle Landsman 