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Autumn

November 5, 2013

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The week before Halloween I traveled to Denver Colorado. While there I was stunned by the vibrancy of the trees. Now, as some know, I was quite a traveler before husband and children, but I must have missed the sheer glow that autumn brings.  After all, we all know that fall’s colors are red, yellow and orange. We know that leaves turn colors, we know that the sky gets a cold blue and that Brother Wind blows in.  That weekend  during lunch I watched as Grey Tail the squirrel chattered and stomped his foot at me for being too close to his tree, running back and forth to scold. I heard for the first time how loud leaves are when falling en-mass. I stood beneath towering trees that made my heart skip with their hues and became foolish with a camera.  Jack Frost nipped my nose and Brother Wind blew my scarf.

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My  plane lifted off in the early morning and as the ether of the light  reflected back in the sunrise  the palette of colors, I comprehended then that I internally understood autumn. It was no longer an idea or a concept that I knew and clearly could explain or speak to but a seed inside me that would bloom each time I told a story of autumn, or read it in a book or someone spoke of it. It had become alive within me, an experience upon which to draw upon.

I felt I hoped as my children did in their classrooms that morning.  I had experienced the knowing of an idea and now knew the experience. This is in its simplest of terms is what we as Waldorf teachers strive to do.

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