Tag: contentment

It’s Fall, Ya’ll!

Brenda Stratton

Actually, most of us here in the Midwest really don’t talk like that, but I couldn’t resist. We’re much more likely to say “It’s fall, you guys,” but it just doesn’t have the same ring.

Still, every time I pull out my “It’s Fall, Y’all!” T-shirt, I can’t help but smile. It is my favorite time of year.

While it’s not officially fall yet, the kids are back in school and there’s a different feel in the air.

Summer is wrapping up, and my garden is slowing down. I will soon can, freeze, and dehydrate the last of the vegetable crop. 

There will be zucchini for zucchini bread, tomatoes for soups, stews, and pasta dishes, cucumbers for pickle relish, and a variety of herbs tucked away for the months ahead.

And it’s nearly time to trim my roses back so they can rest until spring. 

The trees will soon turn color, painting the landscape in brilliant hues of yellow, red, orange, and russet.

And there will soon be traces of woodsmoke as people light their fireplaces against the first chill of the season. 

Although the home I live in now doesn’t have a fireplace, I fondly remember the one we had in my childhood home, where Carl and I continued to live until 2002. Now, I’ll enjoy the memories and perhaps catch the scent of someone else’s fire on a cool autumn evening.

It won’t be long until the earth itself breathes a sigh of relief and settles from the busy energy of summer into the slower pace of fall, as it prepares for winter’s slumber. 

For me, fall has always been a season of quiet gratitude. It is a time to reflect on the year so far and look forward to the months ahead. I hope to spend them writing, enjoying life, and sharing the holidays with the people I love. 

For now, though, I’ll simply pull on my favorite T-shirt, smile at the changing season, and enjoy every colorful day that autumn brings.

Ice Cream Cones and Car Rides

Brenda Stratton

Some lazy summer evenings, after supper and the dishes were done, we’d head to the Tastee Freeze for ice cream before taking a slow drive through town.

It was nothing special, but it was a chance to get out of the house and do something different. 

We waved to people we knew, and slowly drove the familiar streets.   

We saw children playing in the yard, people watering flowers, and lights coming on in windows.

We weren’t spying on anyone. We were simply enjoying the feeling of a town settling in for the evening. 

There was something comforting about seeing porch lights come on and families gathered inside their homes. Even then, I think I was quietly wondering what their stories were.

We didn’t know everyone, of course, in a community of over three thousand people. But we had been born and raised in this small town, and so had our children. It was our town, and these were our people, whether we knew them all or not.

I have always been a listener, an observer. I had no way of knowing back then, but all of these little moments were quietly tucked into the back of my mind, and now they seem to be clamoring to be told. 

Our lives were pretty ordinary. We worked hard, took care of our family, and built a life that made us happy. 

At the time, those evenings were pleasant but they didn’t seem to be more than that. They were simply a way for our family to spend an evening together.

Looking back, I realize they were far more than that. 

They gave me a sense of belonging—to my family and to my community. I didn’t think of it in terms of contentment then, but I know now that’s exactly what it was. I was content, and I was home.