"The leaves on the trees are fallin'
To the sound of the breezes that blow"--
Okay, our leaves are being ripped off the trees by howling winds, but October (which is nearly over--how?!?) always brings Van Morrison's classic "Moondance" to mind. In my vanished youth, it always seemed the most romantic song I knew. (And thirty years after hearing the song for the first time, I ended up marrying a man who has written at least two love songs set in October. Is there a pattern here?)
But this fall, I feel as restless as the leaves. For the first time in decades, my only caregiving responsibilities are to cats (and a yard, but plants planted by me have to be tough), and I find myself checking out city-data forums on the internet, imagining other lives. My spouse's decamping to the University of Toledo has no doubt contributed to this restlessness, since I've spent more time driving over the past fourteen months than in the previous forty years. The changing landscape as the Appalachian foothills of West Virginia give way to the rolling farmlands of Amish country and then to the open sky of the flatlands of northwest Ohio is a source of delight every time I point the car toward my home away from home. Discovering the southernmost part of Michigan's north woods a few weekends ago has given a whole new area to explore--but of course, never enough time.
I can't help wondering what the next adventure will be.
