A few nights ago, I was preparing for a presentation. When I looked up from my computer, I saw the sweetest sky “ribboned” with stripes of bubble gum pink and baby blue. The kind of sky that makes you sigh and wish all of life could always be that sweet.

The night before, I was driving over the bridge in Jay, Maine.

The nearly full moon shone brightly as if it owned the night sky and led me home. As I crossed, I looked to my right and saw its perfect reflection in the water below. I’m often captivated by the daytime reflection of autumn-colored trees in lakes and streams, but this nighttime rendition was a rarity. I wish I could have stopped to get a photo to share, but it’s not the kind of bridge that avails itself for those kinds of adventures. By the time I got to the end of the bridge, I could no longer see the whole reflection; only the moon’s now seemingly wrinkled face in the rippling river. It was as though the passing of time had sped up, and I am left with the memory of what had been.

As much as I try to beware of the passing of time, it seems the universe has sped up. Days fly by so fast that at the end of the day, I am sometimes left dazed and wondering how quickly five a.m. became five p.m.

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December before it’s June. My goodness, how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”

asks Dr. Seuss, reflecting on aging and the passing of time. When lives are cut shorter than perhaps wished, many do not get the opportunity to make such reflections. I don’t spend time wishing for it to pass as I never seem to have enough to be used in every way I wish. Do you ever feel that, too?

And yet,

as quickly as an opportunity passes, there is another in its place.

What is my favorite way of spending time?

Especially at this time of year, one of my favorites is walking in the woods and feeling the soft damp leaves beneath my feet, reminding myself that I am walking at once on the earth of my ancestors and of those yet to be. I inhale as the smell of transforming leaves becoming part of the earth fills my senses. It’s easy to think this is a time of rest, but for Mother Nature, in this part of the world, there is much-unseen activity underground. Roots feed and grow, and insects burrow as the underground world prepares for springtime rebirth. Singular last leaves quiver tentatively at the end of tree limbs, not quite ready to begin their dance to the earth below,

thinking too, perhaps,

                                              “how the time has flew.”