Life has been full lately. Too full...again. I promised myself that this fall would be a little slower, that I would save a little more space for quiet mornings in the woods and casting flies into the rivers still open for fishing. But alas, it's been a "too full" kind of year and really, that's okay.

I think this fullness is a natural part of preparing for our next stage, preparing to leave this place we've called home and step into whatever this next part of our lives will look like. There are a million things, big and small, that go into uprooting your life, into wrapping up the business both professional and personal that must be closed before new doors can be opened. I admit that it can be tedious and tiresome, and it often bears no resemblance to the romance that is often associated with creating a life on the road. But this is the work of the thing, these are the hours that go into earning the beauty and adventure that we are preparing for. And I suspect that when the beauty and adventure arrive, they will be that much sweeter for the work. 

So I will take the small moments between, and I will notice them, cherish them. I will cup my hands around my favorite mug and watch the play of light as the steam rolls off in the chill of the autumn morning. I will laugh from my gut when I find my fluffy dog sleeping upside down and covered in pine needles and dirt in her most recently dug hole. I will light a candle as evening falls ever earlier. I will glory in the leaves of red and gold and fiery orange that crunch beneath my feet as I walk the streets of my town for the last time in this season. 

It is possible to pause and revel in beauty and delight even amid an overflowing to-do list. I would argue that perhaps it's never more important to pause than when faced with an overflowing to-do list, actually. 

And so I will.