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Hello, Friends:
October, you’ve been so full of color.
Not only in the changing landscape, but in life itself. Bright and generous in places; dark and slow to move on in others. Wasn’t I just pressing seeds into the soil, hoping something would grow? Now here we are, holding the memories of what flourished, what disappointed, and all that remains unfinished.
Today, Farmer Jones and I walked the property. For months, Thursdays have meant preparing to welcome you—starting up the smoker, chopping veggies, harvesting for farm boxes, and hustling to have everything ready before you arrived at 6 p.m. Today’s list was quieter: what needs putting away, what needs repairing, and what must be done before winter.
Then I passed the lilacs.
Buds and blooms. In October?
I drew a cluster toward me and breathed in that deep, familiar fragrance of spring. Boy, I needed that.
To be pulled back into spring while my mind was preparing for winter felt like a small mercy. My thoughts had been circling the usual things: our children and what each one needs, the farm, people we love, and the future. There is so much to consider at the close of a season, and I can find myself trying to think my way into a certainty that simply isn’t mine to have.
Then, for a moment, there was only a flower to enjoy. A spring flower at that!
I’m grateful for these small mercies. A familiar fragrance, an unhurried walk, a moment to notice something beautiful while the questions remain. Christ’s faithfulness holds us here, too. We can receive today’s goodness without knowing how everything ahead will unfold.
I left the lilacs with a little more gladness than I brought to them.
This afternoon, before returning to the lists, I wanted to share that little bit of spring with you. Whatever October has held, I hope there is something lovely within reach today—and a moment to receive it.
With love & until next time,
Mrs. Farmer Jones
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” — Hebrews 13:8 (ESV)
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