Not the blood moon ...

But the moon was extra big and bright last night as I arrived at a friend's house to work on a project. At this, my favorite time of year, early evenings can be quiet and bright, the air clear and free of the swirling .pollen that made me sneeze all simmer. The leaves are beginning to change -- just a hint of color, but the beginning of the end for them.

I'm thinking a lot of beginnings and endings right now. We are having painting done at home; now J. has started getting estimates on having the hardwood floors redone as well, since the furniture is all emptied out anyway and the house is chaotic. I love home improvement, but it can temporarily exact a toll on my love of orderliness. Yet, even anticipating how satisfying the results will be,  I realize that this.may be the last time, or close to the last time, that I will undertake a major project like this. Every beginning is an ending too, of sorts

Part of the reason we can start this home renovation, of course, is that we are empty-nesters now. I'm not.complaining, just remarking how endings and beginnings often come.in pairs -- one making way for the other.

Then there is seminary, another new thing, which fulfills my need to be learning, and seems to be going well. Where in my life it will take me remains a.mystery, and will be one for a while yet. That's OK, because life stripped of. mystery becomes just a relentless march toward death.

So the year is dying. The child raising years have ended, and the next step has begun. Doors close but windows open.

And that's a good thing, because the house smells like paint.

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