Today is the day

Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most. – Buddha  

Waking up on a Sunday morning. Daylight savings gave me an extra hour of sleep, that was nice. I wake, and listen – the dogs are stirring, no one else is awake. A car goes by outside, and out my window a couple more leaves fall to the ground.  

I get up – let the dogs outside. They run, crunching through the leaves in the backyard, and the cool crisp breeze raises goose flesh on my arms. What a wonderful smell the autumn morning has. Take a second – breathe it in again. Go to the kitchen – start a pot of coffee. 

Right now is the moment I get. This is it. Make it count. 

Yesterday is a memory – cherish it, learn from it, but it’s done.  

Tomorrow is just a possibility – plan for it, but it may not come. 

NOW. Now is all that’s guaranteed. Squeeze it, savor it. Sniff the air, listen, taste, look around right now:  The things and people I’m grateful for?  Acknowledge them, embrace them, stop and breathe them in.  Take note of them: These are the things to hold onto. These are the things that, if I’m lucky enough to get tomorrow, I need to be worthy of.  

The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the room. 


You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.   –  Henry David Thoreau

The passing moment is all that we can be sure of; it is only common sense to extract its utmost value from it…  –  W. Somerset Maugham

A Tuesday Autumnal Pic Post Celebration

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?

– Hal Borland

Autumn is almost upon us. I love this time of year. After a weekend where I got to rehearse a brand new play with an amazing team of people, and I got to have a 30 minute phone call with my daughter in Finland, I thought I’d celebrate with some pictures. 


Maggie got to go on a cruise from Finland to Sweden! I sure miss having her around, but it fills my heart to see her enjoying herself. 

My son Max, and our new son Tommaso (our exchange student from Italy), had a great time this weekend. I stayed home to work, but Jeanne and the boys went north to the lake where my in-laws live and had a great time visiting and swimming!

A couple shots from rehearsal of Pulp by Joseph Zettelmaier:

Here, John Lepard and Joe Bailey have a little standoff.  (Well, their characters do. The actors get along great! 😜)
And here are Michelle, Sarah and Anna -some of the amazing people making the show happen!

Recently I made my first foray EVER into an IKEA. We and our pals the Woodards went in a big group. My ratings:

Store: Fun.  

Coffee:  Good. 

Meatballs: Meh. 

And so – today starts a new year for our house. The start of a new busy cycle. I’m deep in rehearsals for our new season of plays. Maggie may be off in Finland, but Max Tommaso and Jeanne all began a new school year this morning, which will include classes, tennis, choir, theatre guild and lots more. It’s easy to look at that and think “Oh geez, back to the grind” – but it’s also an exciting time. So much good stuff is on the way, so many new exciting projects. I know many of you are going through your versions of this transition too – and I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am!

The season for enjoying the fullness of life — partaking of the harvest, sharing the harvest with others, and reinvesting and saving portions of the harvest for yet another season of growth.
 -Denis Waitley

Autumn Things…

I love this time of year.  The contrasts – colors, vibrant, but a solid melancholy surrounding them as we all prepare for a hiatus, a hibernation.  So many new things begin: School years, theatre seasons, and yet we’re also planning for an end, because Fall marks the start of the end of the year – we’ll mark one more trip around the sun, and all wonder how it could’ve gone so fast.  But before that, that fabulous smell in the air that says “Only a few more weeks, I’ll be gone!  Gather friends and family, hold them close, enjoy it now.”

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September Midnight, by Sara Teasdale

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.

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Autumn’s the mellow time.
-William Allingham

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October’s Opal, by Robert Savino

October is here, once again,
barely transcending the threshold of autumn.
The maple is turning yellow to orange, to red,
soon to be bared by wint
er.

Ah winter, when blankets of bliss
cover spoon-fit bodies,
flickering sparks to flames. . .
until love of spring gardens
becomes the rapture of summer bloom.

And looking from outside-in,
beyond recognizable beauty,
the ruby of jewels glows bright,
pumping currents of rivers red,
deep into the wells of every extremity.
Our chest fills with laughter.

When apart, even so brief,
this season stays with you,
whether I am or not
and your voice with me,
through wind’s immutable breath.

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I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

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November Snow, by Joseph Pacheco


The first to fall is the first to go.
Earth wears its mantle damp and chill —
Patina of November sno
w.

Leaves raged with fire just days ago —
Now grays, ash browns, pale yellows tell
The first to fall are the first to go.

Remains of harvest in desolate row
Brace for the final winter kill
Beneath their shroud of November snow.

The rakes now dry, the plow and hoe
Await Spring’s promise to fulfill —
The first to fall are the first to go.

Lit by the sky’s anemic glow
The pines are standing stiff and still,
Defiant of November snow.

In barns of silence wait those who know
What lies beneath the fields they till —
The first to fall are the first to go,
Together with November snow.

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Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
-Albert Camus

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