October 2022

I know we're almost there when we reach this intersection.

We stopped here once, at the bottom of the hill, and I took this picture out the passenger window, which I later painted—"Country Road in Summer." Steve was driving and Rory was in the backseat going back and forth from window to window, ears flapping in the summer breeze. Every time we drive this way, through the hills of the Finger Lakes, I remember that moment in time as vividly as if it were a Polaroid.

Do you have places like this? Scenes that evoke such clear picture memories?

We crest another hill and there it is ahead on the right—our favorite farm stand. It's run on the honor system, so we begin adding as we collect purple mums and bright orange pumpkins, local honey and our favorite jams (blueberry and red raspberry), and fruit and vegetables for the week ahead—eggplant, onions, garlic, butternut squash, and Honeycrisp apples.

Jam is $4 a jar. Eggs are $3 a dozen. Mums are 2/$12. We fold our dollars and place them in the wooden lockbox.

I look around to take it in. Here, on the side of a county road in late September, I remember what it feels like to live slowly.

In her book, Chasing Slow: Courage to Journey Off the Beaten Path, Erin Loechner writes:

And so we keep ourselves busy.

One more thing.
One more commitment.
One more opportunity.

Because surely there's room for one more. "I'd rather be overly busy than the opposite," a friend said recently.

I feel it this morning as I write this letter to you—the rain pattering against the window and the weight of productivity on my shoulders reminding me that I haven't done enough, that this is taking too long, that there is still more to do.

Do you feel this, too?

Slow living is a practice, yes; a reframing of expectations (the ones we give ourselves and the ones we take on from others) and a new state of mind. Why is this important? Because it grounds us. And it makes us more human.

Erin Loechner describes:

"Slow living is for connection, for community. For looking a crossing guard in the eye when we thank them. For making the time to help the woman in aisle 9 find the olives. For having the space in our day to welcome an impromptu visit from neighbors, for having the space in our mind to open the door wide even though the hallway’s a mess." (source)

Space.
Margin.
Time.

These are things I want to welcome into my work and life and home this month. Will you join me?

*Disclosure: I get commissions for purchases made through links in this post.