home in october

I've been breathless this week with beautiful autumn at my fingertips and a new novel to dig into. After eight years of traveling for work through most of October, I've spent this week in awe of "home in autumn" and what it brings me.

Some of what it brings me is this apple-cake-in-an-iron-skillet made by Hannah:
It brings me Mississippi family and brunch in Irene:
It brings me a big family dinner in Irene, with my mother's pot roast recipe dusted off, and the introduction of family and friends in a convivial atmosphere:
...especially when we got to singing "Hey, Jude." Some of us had been to the Rain concert that day -- the Beatles tribute band -- and it was so much fun we couldn't contain ourselves:October brings some serious, heartfelt conversation as night falls:
And it brings some celebration. The real Miss Eula -- Ruby Lavender's Miss Eula -- would have been 112 years old on Monday, October 12, so we celebrated her birthday that Sunday night. My cousin Carol and I are both Miss Eula's grandchildren. We bought coconut cupcakes in her honor.

Miss Eula (whom we called Mamaw) always made a coconut cake when we visited, and put it on her glass cake pedestal. It was regal, up high and covered with a glass cake cover... glorious... sort of like these bakery cupcakes and candles, and the singing of Happy Birthday to a funny, nutty, frustrating, loving, amazing and wholly-worthy-of-Ruby-Lavender woman who had meant so much to us growing up.

Thank you for coming, family. Happy Birthday, Miss Eula.I'm glad I could slow down long enough to savor October. I'm out again in a month, to Midland, Michigan, and then to the D.C. area for almost a week, where I'll work in schools and visit with Maryland kin.

Until then, I'll breathe deep and gather fall into my open arms, and I'll keep plugging away at this book two of the Sixties Trilogy. I haven't forgotten my intention to write every day, and I have done that... even if it has only been for fifteen minutes.
And truth: I can't really write for fifteen minutes. I can visit my story, that's what I can do. I can jot down notes. I can do some good thinking. I can brush up passages. But that's writing, too. And it is enough on those days when I'm embracing fall... mainly because my deadline isn't staring me in the face! ha!

No, no, it's enough because the thing I'm striving to find in these months off the road is balance. I want to find a balance to my days.
"Good luck!" say most folks I talk with about this. But I persist. And I persist with this story as well. Next week I want to write about my biggest fear with this novel. It has been my biggest fear for years, and I can no longer put off facing it. I started to face it this week, as I put in long days at my desk, to move forward with the narrative. What I want to figure out (and will write about next week) is..

Well... next week. Have a good weekend, all. I'm going in search of pumpkins. And story. Long hours with autumn, with family, and with this novel. A nice balance.