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My fall classes and various other events are in full swing, so I’ve been on overdrive lately. That seems fitting for the month of October, which has always meant, for me, color on overdrive. I especially love the bright blaze of fall foliage in New England, but Fort Collins hasn’t been too shabby this year, either.One day recently, you would have found me craning my neck, gawking at trees in a parking lot and snapping pix with my phone, caring NOT AT ALL if I looked crazy doing it.I mean, worth it, right? Even more glorious in person, I promise.

Earlier in October, I finally made it back for a Sunapee fall, after ten years of missing it, thanks to a family wedding. Congrats, Julia and Sean! Thanks to them, I also hiked to the top of Mount Kearsarge for the first time in decades. Woo-hoo! Super chilly on top, so we didn’t stay long!

New Hampshire is in a drought, so the foliage was not its most spectacular–more brown, so the flashes of red were all the more welcome,and the glowing sunset light on the lake made up for it.Last weekend was the Fort Collins Artists Studio Tour, and what a treat that was. I couldn’t resist this one by my friend Marie-Louise Dautzenberg.

Now I get to wake up to sunlight on this celebration of color. There is some serious talent in Northern Colorado, but the great thing this year is I felt more inspired than intimidated. Is that one of the gifts of aging? Less of a need to compete? More of a desire to try something new with no grading scale attached? I think it might be. What do you think?

Sweet as the nectar I make for the hummingbirds that visit my deck.In fact, this summer has been so sweet that I spent all my time enjoying it and completely missed posting in July. Sorry about that! It’s high time to share some of it.

I’ve had lots of family time, including adventures with Beckett and Brooks.

Plus loads of water fun at Lake Sunapee and at the Rain Dance pool. Soak up some joy from all these smiling faces.

I even managed a few decent loon shots this year.

August brought its own sweetness. A few weeks after we got back from the lake, Beckett had one of his Taekwondo levels testing days, and I was invited. Of course, I took my camera!

Then Beckett’s birthday…

I got a little something for Brooks, too.

The very first thing Brooks said when he arrived at the lake was, “It’s just so beautiful!” in a hushed, awestruck voice. Adorable. And true.

This year I noticed a patch of long, bright-green grass growing up out of the lake near our cousins’ dock, with little flashes of iridescent blue along each blade. When I paddled closer, I found that dozens, maybe hundreds, of electric-blue damselflies had landed and were sticking out exactly the same direction like little flags in the breeze. I wasn’t brave (or reckless) enough to take my camera on the paddleboard to snap a shot of them, but I did take Brooks to see them. His verdict? “Beautiful!”

There’s something so inspiring and, well, sweet about a small child’s appreciation for joy and beauty. I’d like to learn from that. I recently happened across a book, “Don’t Forget to Sing in the Lifeboats,” containing fabulous quotes collected by Kathryn & Ross Petras. The title is paraphrased from a quote by Voltaire. Love it.

So here’s my plan: I’m taking breaks from the grim news every now and then. I’m appreciating the beautiful (and the adorable, whenever possible). I’m singing. Join me?

I’m feeling the need for a little respite from All The Things. When better than now to savor joy wherever it can be found? So here we go:

This is generally a pretty sunny place, but it has rained–and snowed–just enough to make everything gloriously green. My spring bulbs, planted last fall, actually bloomed, as well as the usual flowering trees. Woo-hoo! Besides blooming and greening (and a little bit of raining), this spring has included a lot of music. I had the chance to attend an afternoon presentation by Joel Bacon at CSU about the Casavant organ. Although I’ve spent plenty of time in the performance hall with the organ in its previous location, especially while I was earning my degree in music there, somehow, I had never seen a demonstration of all it could do. Very cool.

Also, I’m finally doing some songwriting after a years-long hiatus, this time mostly with others, which is a whole new and fascinating experience. I thought that was all in my past, but it turns out there’s not really an expiration date on creativity, so I’m not planning to stop anytime soon. Easter offered plenty of music, as always. Brittany and Andy came up from Denver for the day.

Chelsea, Brian and the boys came over from Windsor.

Everyone joined me at church. Here’s one of my favorite moments (a little backstory first): This year we had a choir, open to anyone. It was all Easter joy and family love, nothing formal about it. We were singing with the worship team, so our leader was actually behind us during the service. The piece was a wonderful new song by Aaron Williams called “Resurrection Hope,” and we had been encouraged to have it memorized and to make eye contact with the congregation to project the appropriate energy. As instructed, partway through the song, I glanced at the boys and there was Brooks giving us a big thumbs up and kind of nodding with a serious critic’s face. Adorable.  I burst out laughing. Now however casual the choir, minimum expectation is to actually sing, so I had to look elsewhere. I did finally manage to pull it together for the big celebratory finish.

In the moment of silence at the end, a very familiar young voice yelled, “Good job, Gigi!” 😉

I hope your Easter was gloriously joyful, with or without a personal cheerleader.

He is risen! And he’s where the joy is.

No, I’m not planning to leap from any of these high places.

First of all, they’re in France, and I’m not. Second, I’m not a big leap-from-scary-heights kind of person, with or without a bungee or parachute. But it’s a leap year, hence this month’s theme. Mostly I’ve been leaping into the endlessly [choose your own adjective] world of home repairs. It did feel like a leap into the unknown at first, but I’ve had some excellent help and/or advice from various friends. Thank you!

As a result, the mysterious goo dripping from my ceiling — since THANKSGIVING! — has finally been correctly diagnosed and repaired–WOO-HOO! That was maddening, but it’s done (-ish) now. Eventually I’ll find someone to repair the hole in my ceiling after I’m sure all is well and dry.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the task list, but plenty has been happening here, so I’m finding my fun where I can. Since my house needed to be repainted, I’m changing the color. Yay! I also decided to replace the front lights to something reminiscent of France, basically a simplified version of these.

Here’s before and after:

Before

After

The exterior is only about half done, but I love the new look so much, I keep going outside to admire it. No literal leaping for joy so far, but inside? I’m definitely leaping.

I heard a wonderful Frederick Buechner quote this morning :  Joy is a mystery because it can happen anywhere, anytime, even under the most unpromising circumstances, even in the midst of suffering, with tears in its eyes. 

Many of you know the truth of this from personal experience. So today I am holding you in my heart. I am grateful to all of you who read these ramblings and/or enrich my life in uncountable ways. Whatever your days bring, I pray they also include moments of surprising, shining joy (leaping optional).