turn, turn, turn

To everything there is a season...

This time of year everything seems to be a liminal space, that sort of golden autumn in-between when there are still a few breaths of summer hanging on alongside reminders of winter to come.

Today was one of those days.

For supper we had little tomatoes from our garden, and Sister Claire Marie's frittata was made with our zucchini as well as the basil she grows in a pot on the windowsill. Summer tastes. I am amazed that the garden is still producing.

This morning I went down by the water to pray during my meditation time. It promised to be a lovely day, but in the pre-dawn chill I needed my down coat.

As the sun rose, the gulls woke up, discovering the jumping fish, the first I've seen in some time. They attracted the attention of nearby Double-crested Cormorants, and eventually even a couple of Great Blue Herons ventured into the zone of madly wheeling birds.  No Great Egret today, though... I haven't seen one in the past week, so the one that hangs about the cove may have gone south.

On the way back to the convent for the Eucharist, near one of our guesthouses, I spotted my first snowbirds - juncos returned for the winter. Signs of things to come.

So we wait and watch.

But also we take time just to be present. Here. Now. In this space. 

I am so thankful.

Peace be with you - with us all - with our world.