Gives in peace.

I want to write something of great beauty, maybe the perfect red of the apple I grabbed from the fridge this morning and its lovely name: honeycrisp. It is exactly honey and crisp, sweet and sharp with a satisfying crunch. I want to write about the delicious taste of fall in the air, the cold morning weather, the promise of red leaves, the heavy sigh of evening as the sun rolls downward, tucks itself in, and the moon stretches slowly skyward. But something about this season encourages silence and stillness, except for the animals who are busily preparing for the cold, gathering acorns, finding branches to take shelter in. Lately I face my evening to-do list with a kind of regret. These things are there, to do, and I dismiss them gently, folding myself into bed with a book and the silence of sleeping children down the hall. I feel in the back of mind somewhere that there is more to be done, that this downtime comes at a price. But what it takes in productivity it gives in peace and a quiet mind, a rested body, a ready heart.