1. Morning walks and fall color. I waited a bit one morning until it was closer to sunrise so we could see the turning leaves and rabbitbrush and I could get some pictures to share. This is my favorite time of year here. This year is a bit different because it was so dry, so there are some things that dried up before they had a chance to fully turn, but it’s still gorgeous. One morning Eric had one of those “wild kingdom” walks where it seemed like every time he turned around, there was another animal. Not pictured are the three beavers he saw swimming in the pond. It’s so weird how this particular generation of beavers doesn’t smack their tale to alert when they see us. Either no one taught them or they don’t think we represent any danger. Ringo has been around long enough to remember the beavers who did, and he seems to be a bit disappointed that these don’t.

2. Practice. There were only two who could write on Friday morning this week, but it’s a lovely and intimate practice with just two of us — especially after three years of writing together and knowing each other so well, trusting each other so completely, and a good chance to catch up, to linger a bit more than when all six of us are there and time is limited. Yoga with Red Sage where I managed to not do too much, to not wreck myself after spraining my SI joint a few weeks ago (after another situation where I did too much), and a lovely yoga class at the gym the day before to test if my body was up to teaching. I haven’t been meditating much recently, which seems to always happen after I’ve experienced a big loss, and as I’m telling you this now, I’m realizing it’s not that I avoid meditation during seasons of grief but rather every moment becomes an opportunity to be fully present and mindful with whatever is arising, which is practice of another flavor, another temperature, a different pace.

3. Mom and Dad’s “63rd” Anniversary. Yesterday was the third anniversary of Dad’s death. If he would have made it one more day, he and Mom would have reached their 60th anniversary together. This year, after a few years apart, wherever they are, they are spending their 63rd together.

4. Working on “The Book.” I have 20 years of journals, 15 years of blog posts (my 15 year “blogiversary” was on September 16th, but I missed it), and close to 1000 pages of typed work already written. Recently, after an understandable break due to life circumstances, I’ve returned to put in some real effort on turning some of what I’ve written into an actual book. Sometimes it is overwhelming, and other times I doubt myself, but there are moments where I feel content, even satisfied with what’s there, and confident that some day, some day, I’ll actually finish it.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. We often times get so caught up in looking and planning ahead, in what comes next or what we have planned, in our to-do list or our goals, that we forget this very moment, the laundry and the morning walk, is living — this IS life, right here and now. I’ve been trying to remember that as I move through my days, all the ones I have left, whatever that might mean.

Bonus joy: trying a new recipe, texting with Chris and Chloe’, getting the laundry done early, clean sheets, cooler temperatures, a new cooling blanket for Ringo’s crate, the Merlin app, getting in the pool, sitting in the sauna, working out at home, working out at the gym, making Eric and Chloe’ laugh with tales of the characters in my writing class, getting to finally see Kerri and Shawna, book club brunch, how well Ringo did at the vet, cinnamon and sugar toast, down blankets and pillows, napping on the couch with Ringo, listening to podcasts and music, watching TV, videos of people paying for other people’s groceries and gas, Sunday morning Pilates with Bea, sitting in the sun in the backyard, texting with neighbors old and new, finding more tiny brass crows Eric got and has been hiding for me in my office, the flowers Eric brought home for me from the grocery store, groceries, Autumn Crisp grapes, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, naps, libraries, poetry, comedy, grapefruit juice, a hot cup of coffee and warm mug of tea, good books, hospice care, pay day, a washer and dryer in my house so I don’t have to cart my laundry to a 2nd location or hoard quarters anymore (although, now you can use a credit card to pay), cheeseburgers and corndogs, a warm shower, wool slippers, weekends because Eric is home more often, being retired, trash service, wi-fi, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.

1. Morning walks. I’m probably going to have to start going later because we are entering peak fall color season and I am walking so early it’s still dark out, so we are missing it. This absolutely is my favorite season in Colorado.

2. Owl magic, owl medicine. This is what I didn’t know earlier in the week that I know now: it is against federal law to collect the feathers of owls, hawks, and eagles. Last week and the one before were full of owl sightings. There were a pair of Great Horned owls hanging out near the stretch of river where we walk and no matter where we went, which set of ponds we looped around, it seemed the owls were there. Both Eric and I on our individual walks with Ringo saw them. When Eric walked on Thursday morning this week, parked the car at the end of Wood Street where a short section of trail connects to the longer Poudre River Trail, there was a Great Horned owl standing in the grass under the trees. Ringo barked at it and it flew off but then wanted to go smell the ground where it had been, so Eric took him over. Ringo has never seen one on the ground, so I’m sure he was very excited and confused. Eric found a feather that must have just fallen from the owl’s chest as it lifted, and he picked it up to bring home to me, knowing I would have picked it up myself, would think it was super cool.

And he was right. I was so happy about it. I collect feathers and this one was particularly beautiful and precious — a soft white with a subtle ombre of light brown, gray, and even a slight blue. It was so soft that when I brushed it along the back of my hand, I could barely feet it. I knew exactly where I wanted to put it, on my meditation shrine with my dad’s ashes and the tiny brass animal collection, each one representing a loved one I’ve lost. Then I looked up the meaning of finding the feather of a Great Horned owl, knowing already that owls are considered messengers between the living and the dead. They represent heightened intuition, profound wisdom, and the ability to see through deception or darkness, as well as the uncovering of hidden truths and trusting your own voice. I also read somewhere that they are “often interpreted as an invitation from your spirit guides to embark on personal healing and deeper self-reflection,” and are a powerful tool for protection and prayer.

And as I searched, I also saw that it was illegal according to federal law to collect and keep them. Frankly, I don’t care much about federal law right now, don’t have much respect for it, not with the current state of politics, but I do care what indigenous people advise and practice. What I discovered is that most tribes say to leave it where you find it, leave it to the Earth, unless you happen to be an indigenous person from a people who uses them for decorative or ceremonial purposes. So, I kept it on my shrine overnight and the next morning when Ringo and I walked, I carried the feather in my pocket and took it back, thanked it for its magic, its medicine and message, apologized for taking it, for not knowing better, and gave it back to nature, returned it to the Earth.

3. Practice. I sadly had to skip my yoga class at the gym and cancel my one at Red Sage because I hurt my back (went too hard lifting last week, because apparently when you return to strength training over 50, your muscles are capable of more than your ligaments and joints, and I let my muscles set the pace, which turned out to be a mistake). My wildish writing practice was extra special because there were just two of us, and I hadn’t planned to bring poems, so what we wrote to was a surprise for me too as I got out a few collections and found ones I’d marked in the past to use for prompts.

4. Good food and good company. We did brunch for book club this time and it was so nice, we decided to schedule our next session for the same.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Bonus joy: cooler weather but also sunshine, texting with my old neighbor, texting with Chloe’ and Chris, not needing to keep my phone with me at all times because I might get a text about my mom, sending flowers to the Tokarski Home staff who took care of mom so well and for so long (and yes, I am currently being petty and pissy about sending any sort of thank you to the house she was in for her final days because her care was not excellent — maybe I’ll get over that, maybe I won’t), good books, watching tv and moves, listening to music and podcasts, fruit — especially the Autumn Crisp green grapes (and the way I just made myself laugh because I spelled it “autumn crips” on accident), leftovers, old style grilled cheese sandwiches, the good pens, a new blank notebook, stickers, a warm shower, electric toothbrushes, getting to see a good friend I haven’t seen in too long, being able to cancel all my plans and stay home to rest, acupuncture with Lindsay, Eric continuing to feel better, a good night’s sleep, clean sheets, getting the laundry done and sometimes even put away, groceries, pay day, my dog, sitting with Eric on the couch or in the backyard or in the sauna, flowers in the house, other people’s pets and kids, the way Eric’s dad always says “tell Jill I love her” when he talks to him on the phone (*sob*), getting the girls’ birthday cards to them on time, pasta, wool slippers, down blankets and pillows, naps, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.