Time was that when I called my mother on the telephone it took several attempts to get through because her phone was always busy. She was forever talking to someone  - either my aunt or one of my cousins, or most likely, one of her many “lady friends” who lived in the neighborhood. 

But I can’t remember the last time I got that annoying buzz of the busy signal when I placed a call to her phone number. And it isn’t because she has call waiting or that her phone goes directly to voice mail.

This entire week has been gloriously beautiful here in the Midwest, much more of a late summer feeling than an early fall, with warm sun bearing down and cloudless azure skies above. I haven’t felt called to decorate with fall flowers inside or out, although many of my neighbors have placed colorful pots of golden mums on their porches and decks, and hung fall foliage wreaths on their front doors. 

Yesterday was a blissfully free day, and I gave in and spent the afternoon on my deck, feet up, books at hand. I left my phone inside the house so I wouldn’t be tempted by the internet, and spent over two hours reading, dozing, taking a few moments every now and then to gaze up and savor the full leafed green trees around me. There was a poignancy to the day, one of the few like it left to grace us as we barrel full speed ahead into fall and then winter. I was mindful  of being poised on the edge of that change.