There is a front or something passing; I can hear the rain against the roof tonight. We need it. There was hardly any snow to speak of last winter, which has left this area in drought this water year. Tonight’s storm is unlikely to make up for it much.
But it is autumn, well past the equinox now; the leaves have again gone from deep green to golden green to orange to fluttering on the wet wind.
Winter, as they say, is coming.
I miss blogging, but I feel like I have not got anything much to say. Life continues to be life in all the usual ways. Late-season road construction has chewed up all of the ways in and out of my neighborhood, to my vast annoyance. Personal friends on Facebook have been getting a play-by-play on how to give medication to a cat. Spouse and I picked apples last weekend and there will soon be pie.
Internship is going smoothly so far. I preached there a couple of weeks ago and will do it again in December. Then there will be the January trip to Chicago – only a few days, this time – and then back here for more internship, and in the spring more CPE, and soon after that beginning in earnest the massive bundle of paperwork that will lead to the end of the credentialing tunnel. But not yet. It all seems very remote, somehow – and also inevitable, at the end of this chain of small steps.
And so I am listening to the rattle of rain against the roof, late at night, and the sounds of the other living creatures in this house, large and small, all snoring in their large and small ways.
It is good enough.