Walking around the valley, much is in the process of shutting down.
Trees are shedding their leaves to conserve energy in preparation for the winter, triggered by the plant hormone auxin.
There are fewer fruiting bodies in evidence, and those still around show signs of mini-feasts. Squirrels, birds and insects are increasing their fat storage for the lean times ahead.
These are not urgencies driven by fear but of some kind of innate hope. The knowing that this is what you do to still be around for the awakening in the spring.
It’s made me think about things that feel urgent to us, prompted by John O’Donohue’s line in For the Traveller:
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
We are so used to a sense of urgency being overlaid with fear. But what if it was hope?
What are the possibilities and imperatives that insistently call for our attention because they are ours to respond to?
Perhaps this is our gift, not our burden.