1011_trees1 The wind is blowing fiercely today. It started around Callum's bedtime last night (It always seems to start around Callum's bedtime, rattling his shutters and making for restless sleep.) and seemed to pick up as the night went on. Each fall the acorns hit the house and sound (quite literally) like gunshots. Last night that sound woke us up over and over.

We're all feeling a bit fractious today.

Unexpectedly, I had the chance to catch up with two dear, but far away friends yesterday. (Look at me, all phone-talkey and social.) Despite the delightful conversations, they are both hemmed in by worry and sadness. And late last night, an email from my mom about her sister, my only aunt, dealing with her own health worries. (I'll email you later today, Mom.)

It's a lot. All around us. I had been thinking a good bit, even before a class started making me more reflective, about changes I've been wanting to make for our family. I'm not going to lie. It's been a rocky autumn around here. Windy and fractious. Those changes, mostly little but for a greater good, seem terribly necessary. But what days like yesterday remind me is that the most important work I can do is to be still and listen. To try to hold the worry lightly, both for myself and others. And to pay attention. Both inside my house and out.