Like many things here in the South, autumn never seems to be in a hurry. The Boys of Summer have long since packed their bats and gloves before our foliage takes enough notice of the calendar to blush at its own tardiness. The first snows will have come and gone up North before we even make a habit of keeping our jackets handy.
But clattering along the wooden boardwalk of a nearby creek this weekend, I realized it has finally happened: There’s color overhead. Soggy little islands of yellow and red leaves creep downstream, turning gently in the pale columns of November light. Autumn has found us, at last.
Following nature’s example
Fall is my favorite season. We trample summer underfoot, where it will rest until returning as the blossoms of spring. Bounty and letting go, all with beautiful result.
That’s the same result I hope for in my own tiny affairs. For the past few weeks, I’ve been engaging in a round of creative destruction. In some cases, it’s just been a matter of releasing things which have served their purpose — letting them spiral to earth, hardly noticed by anyone. In others, I’ve had to lean hard against the plow before tilling things under.
None of these, taken individually, amount to much. But together, they’re the first steps in a realignment I hope will recover the time and focus I need to write. In sentences longer that 140 characters.
Letting go
Some nights ago — with this unburdening process stirring the dark silt of dreams — I found myself on a hill overlooking a ruined section of Hardian’s Wall.
“You know the surest sign of an empire in decline?” intoned the specter of a grey and lonely Centurion. “Neglected outposts.”
I have a lot of those, particularly in the digital realm: Gates hanging on rusty hinges; abandoned watchtowers; rotting timbers. Time to pull a few of them down. So farewell Twitter and Facebook. Goodbye, also, to LinkedIn and Flickr. I’ve opted out of Klout, dumped at least a dozen domains, and shuttered a number of online and in-real-life projects. I am clear cutting whatever obscures my view of the horizon.
Gathering up
I haven’t sustained a publishing project since Lighter Footstep and its short-lived successor, More Minimal. After a number of false starts, I’ve decided to return my attention here. As I approach my third year living in suburbia without a car, I’ll be writing about my first love — bikes. More importantly, I’ll be writing about how a bike can change our lives: How we feel; how we look at out community and surroundings; and what happens when we take a considered look at our real needs and desires.
I will also be participating in Google+. If you haven’t tried Google+, please allow me to invite you to give it a whirl. For me, it’s everything under one roof: Great conversations, terrific video support, and built-in Google Reader. Sign-up is open to anyone with a Google account (now including Google Apps). I’d be pleased of you’d add me to your Google+ circles.
As an experiment, I’m going to move comments from this site to public threads on Google+. Once I’ve published an article here, I’ll link it to an entry on Google+. For such a young community, Google+ is amazingly engaged and diverse. I’d like to see how conversations reverberate in open spaces.
This site will be substantially re-aligned. To be honest, I’m not sure what form it will take. But whatever happens, it begins now.
