No mountain too tall, no traveler too small. Photo by Katherine.

The autumn air is crisp and cold, fingers freeze and thaw, noses run and jump. Gardens are put to bed for the season yet the collards continue to nourish through soups and stews made on the woodstoves of tiny houses. Piles around the neighborhoods are stacking higher with fallen trees that were once alive, growing, breathing the air so that we may also breathe. On the land somewhere, a grove invites a weary traveler to rest in the branches and recharge their energy before continuing on a magnificent journey.

Those chunky piles now fuel our fires to keep warm and cook our food, while still offering a mountain to climb for those travelers who have found their way home in time for supper. Tomorrow, another journey awaits.

A green and black carpet of fallen leaves border paths with a spongy lush yearning to be gathered in hands and tossed into the white sky with innocence and frivolity. White turns to grey and a timeless drear settles upon the land, revealing nests that were once protected from predatory eyes by green goodness of foliage.

Stories are re-told around the fire; the same tales of advancements made and unforeseen challenges that accompany those acts of hubris. The systems are scrutinized and found unacceptable by some. Clean air and water are no longer the rights of all beings though they are essential to life on this planet. People march in the streets for unity and voice, facing criticism from those who seek to silence.

To listen to another’s story is an act of compassion; to stand with them and seek to know another truth is imperative.

Autumn will become winter soon and the hibernations encourage the growth and transformation essential to thriving systems. Leaves return to the earth creating fodder for those who seek to live in harmony with one another. Darkness breeds and nurtures ideas that emerge and transform energy into the light of spring. A new day is coming and the sunrise is magnificent.

Come mothers and fathers

Throughout the land

And don’t criticize

What you can’t understand

Your sons and your daughters

Are beyond your command

Your old road is

Rapidly agin’

Please get out of the new one

If you can’t lend your hand

For the times they are a-changin’.

Bob Dylan, 1964.

This piece is by Katherine.

Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and educational nonprofit outside Rutledge, focused on demonstrating sustainable living possibilities. Public tours are offered April – October on the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of the month. In the meantime you can find out more about us by checking out our website, www.dancingrabbit.org, calling the office at (660) 883-5511, or emailing us at dancingrabbit@ic.org.