all fall down

Do you ever feel like my hosta? You’re done. You held yourself up, you went through wind and sun and rain, days and nights, and now…

It’s fall. Little leaves are falling. Big leaves are falling…

I think back to when I was a child and how much I loved horseback riding. For years and years, I would go riding with my father every morning before school. I’d lay out my clothes on the floor the night before (I’m not sure why the floor(?)).

And at 5:45, my alarm would go off. I’d jump out of bed, put on my jeans and shirt and socks and riding boots, etc., and be out the door and down at the barn in 15 minutes, with hats, coat, mittens, if needed. I had it exactly timed.

In spring and summer, I was dancing in sunshine from the house to the barn, but as fall progressed, there was less and less light at that time of day. I’d see the barn lights in the distance and run for it. Then, once saddled up and on my horse, I’d ride out alongside my father into the darkness before dawn.

Winter rides started in pitch black. The only light initially was the sparks as the horses hooves hitting gravel. We would loop back over the mountain trails in better and better visibility with the rising sun.

In winter, I did my best to dress warmly in those few minutes I had before running outside. But rarely was I warm enough. Riding is a cold sport. My hands would ache when dipped in warm water to soap my saddle afterwards.

That sense of a few short minutes and a lot to do: you doubtless have experienced this? You have a limited time to get from here to there, to “get dressed”, to assess the information at hand, to move-move-move to grab what is needed before leaving, and then go for it. The consequences might be more forceful than cold hands, but the sense of pressure is similar.

Our lives can be full of such demands.

The sweet hosta will sprout again all full of vim and vigor.

And so will we. But why not enjoy the help of an assistant (or three or more)

to carry our needs