Fall has arrived in Colorado, at least for this weekend.  70 by day, 40 by night.  Love.

The aspen surrounding our home have begun their vibrant encore, their final applause, and soon will take their seasonal sabbatical.   The air, just brisk enough to demand another layer both morning and evening, is calling me to soon pull out the flannel sheets.   The sun, it seems, is even shining at a different angle, as Savannah pointed out on our way to church this morning.  Her artist minds eye is now being trained to see light (thus Light) in new ways.  Smile.

Saturday morning we were on the soccer field at 7:00 am for the earliest game of the season.  Despite the attrocity of having to get up that early for a game, it was nice to be done so early.  The remains of the day were spent out of doors at a local art festival, a favorite taco stop and enjoying the beautiful weather as we window shopped and oohh'ed and aahh'ed at the latest fall offerings at each of our favorite stores.  Fun.

Sundays mornings mean Doug makes breakfast.  Today it was apple-cinnamon almond flour pancakes smothered in that fabulous marriage of butter and maple syrup.  Oh, and applewood smoked bacon.  And the last of the Rwandan coffee.  Our usual is that he makes breakfast, I make coffee, talking as we go, and then we sit alone together while the girls sleep.  Then I head up to get ready for chuch and he wakes them, then sits and laughs with them while they eat.  Today while he prayed with just me, before we ate, I felt this deep sense of peace about many things.  The combination of date nights with him every Friday, coffee dates with him every Saturday and that delighful breakfast on Sunday morning represents my favorite hours of each week.  Sigh.

This time last year so much was in the air for us.  And most of it still is, in many ways.  But time has brought a seasonal change in our family as well.  Fall teaches of harvest and reminds of the sowing.   I am so thankful for every piece of our family story.