I went out this morn­ing for my daily run/walk. I say “run/walk.” I used to say “run.” Now I say “run/walk.” It’s really “walk.” I am still in denial about the whole knee pain situation.

Any­way, I digress.

I went out this morn­ing for my daily run/walk. Most days I lis­ten to books via Audi­ble on my iPhone while I run/walk because a good book with a com­pelling sto­ry­line and a tal­ented reader who keeps me hang­ing on every word makes me want to keep run/walking so I don’t have to go inside and work/work. It’s a fab­u­lous way to procrastinate/procrastinate and still feel a wee bit vir­tu­ous. I’m read­ing and exer­cis­ing! In fact, I am pretty much on track to fin­ish 100 Kin­dle, tra­di­tional and audio­books this year as part of my Goodreads goal.

fall in the potager

Lemon grass and pineap­ple sage salvia in the potager — October

This morn­ing I had to fum­ble a bit before get­ting Audi­ble up and run­ning. (Thank you iOS 7 for mak­ing me add a pass­word.) While I was mash­ing vir­tual but­tons on the minus­cule screen with­out ben­e­fit of my read­ing glasses, I ran/walked sev­eral yards, not look­ing at the first thing except that tiny screen.

Sud­denly it hit me. Smoke. Specif­i­cally, wood smoke from someone’s fireplace.

Now, I’m not big into fire­places with smoke because of sen­si­tive sinuses and a strong ten­dency to get painful sinus infec­tions when exposed to smoke of any sort. But small doses of out­side smoke from some­one else’s fire­place a half mile away is rather nice. It says, “Fall!” It says, “Time to reflect and slow down.” It says, “Drink some hot choco­late and take a nap!”

It’s a smell with dozens of asso­ci­a­tions from child­hood and from the hap­pi­est (and a few sad) times of my life. That smell was accom­pa­nied by the nature music of my feet brush­ing aside the fallen leaves as I walked up the driveway.

Slow down!” I said to myself. (But don’t stop running/walking!)

I put away the iPhone and looked at the mosaic of colors—red, yel­low, brown, green and every color of fall, punc­tu­ated by the occa­sional, fear­less rose, salvia and celosia.

celosia cock's comb

Celosia–commonly called cock’s comb–in the potager

If I could bot­tle up that fan­tas­ti­cal com­bi­na­tion of smell, sound, fresh air, color—and the rush of the run/walk—I would be richer than Oprah.

Alas, no one has fig­ured out how to cap­ture the magic of Mother Nature, although artists, pho­tog­ra­phers, musi­cians and per­fumers still try.

But I am still rich. I am rich because I can appre­ci­ate the gifts Mother Nature hands out for free to any­one will­ing to pause in their run/walk through life and appre­ci­ate it.

Namaste.

 

 

Robin

Garden and food writer Robin Ripley is co-author of Grocery Gardening. Her new book, Wisdom for Home Preservers, will be released later in 2014 from Taunton Press.

Bumblebee is about her life in rural Maryland, her garden, cooking, dogs and pet chickens. She also blogs about food and chickens at Eggs & Chickens. Follow her on Twitter, Pinterest and Facebook. Thank you for visiting.

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