in the backseat of August.

Listening to: Angel Flight by Radney Foster

This time of year comes every twelve months or so, and maybe it's just me, but late August always brings homesickness. It's not even homesickness, really, just a longing for a time when a familiar feeling comes back.

It's not even the season that's my favorite, it's a feeling.

It's the feeling of the frosted October breeze as it whispers through the eventide. Denim jeans and fur-lined boots. Empty notebooks and leaves that scuttle across the gravel. And the way the trees sway way up in the sky.

Roasting marshmallows and late night bonfires. The feeling of home when you sit on a tailgate watching the flames reach to caress the sky. Scarves and hand-knitted hats.

It's the feeling of longing when you're standing in the heat by the road, watching the skies for the northerner that the weatherman promised that day. Watch it come in, watch the way the tall grass rolls under the first gust of wind in the distance, sailing closer and closer until the heat leaves to a crashing burst of cold.

Guitar strings and candles. It's pumpkin pie and hot chocolate with marshmallows.

It's a hayride while you and a candy apple are wrapped snugly in a quilt, nestled under the night sky.

Cold air.

Gloves and mittens.

Bright colors.

Poetry.

Sweaters.

Denim jackets.

I love this time and I love this life, but right now, sitting in the backseat of August, I'm homesick.


xo,
jessie suzanne

golden, cracked, aged.

Listening to: my rambling, chaotic thoughts.

Lyric love: "But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them." -Jim Croce

I looked up at the pecan trees that towered over us. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and printed shadows on the ground. As the wind shifted, the shadows did too, so there was sunshine lace spread on the ground. I'll always love that.

Have you ever felt that a place was a part of your family? My dad and I wandered among the trees, crunching through the yellowed leaves. Beyond the road was a sprawling old field, and around this time last year, we had sat in the middle of it. We had talked of Shakespeare, guitar, and pondered life.

"If these trees could talk, I'm sure they'd have some remarkable stories to tell. They've seen so much in this life."

Riverside Park. Some of my earliest memories are there. Some of the best ones. My dad and I had come into Victoria and decided to go to the park, which was hilariously fun. We weaved a trail through the pecans and leaves, and we found a stick. When one finds a stick of this size, it inspires one to play baseball. We didn't have a baseball with us, so Papa proceeded to throw pecans in the air before slamming them with the stick. This caused much laughter and the smugly repeated phrase, "Watch and learn."

And later I was sitting on the tailgate of my dad's truck, and we were talking of something that happened years ago. I'm watching the leaves fall, tiny and brown and shriveled and golden. Golden.

And I had a thought.

Brown and cracked and aged, they fall from the trees. But if sunlight arrests them in its soft embrace, then they're not brown and cracked and aged anymore. They're glowing warmly with a newfound fire, sifting to the ground to be nestled among ember-like leaves.

The leaves won't be here forever, but they are here, and they're breathtaking as they glide calmly through the air. Fallen, but still so beautiful.

Sunlight does that.

The Lord does that.

He takes the broken and fallen and He makes them whole. He makes them beautiful, so they glow with His love and joy.

Psalms 23:3  

"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

In His love,
Suzanne

involving: fires, smoke, and a splattered sun.

Listening to: Revelation by Third Day

Quote love: "Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." 
-Peter Pan

This is Wesley. Ain't he adorable?!?

The sky is wrapped in smoke today. There's a 25,000 acre fire near Bastrop now, and the smoke is swimming in the sky. Please pray for the safety of the firefighters and the people who are evacuating.

My mom and I went to the Stauss's house earlier, which was very fun and epic. Last time, Wesley stole my camera. That night I found a zillion pictures of his teeth and eyes. o.O

We got to meet two missionaries that were staying with them, which was great! I'm so glad I've finally met them; they're wonderful. *grins hugely*

You know, if you see the sun through an ocean of smoke, it looks like someone threw an orange at the sky. Like someone threw an orange at the sky and it got caught in the smoke, staining the clouds around it. It's very true.

Justin and I went for a walk (which was really fun and hilarious!) and stared at the scenery (I was slightly obsessed with it).

The scenery consisted of hills, gravel roads winding along the countryside, smoke, violent cows, deer, more smoke, and an orange splattered sun. It was so hazy and windy and perfect. It seemed dream-like.

We would have walked to another pasture, though Justin said not to. If I'm not mistaken, the cows had predators where they originated from, and the cows attacked the predators. Or something like that...I might be remembering it wrong. O.O

On another topic, my church is having our annual World Missions Conference this Sunday! I think this is our 23rd conference. It's always such a blessing. We usually cook for the missionary families who come and bring them dinner at the Fellowship Hall, and then we have services. It starts on September 11th and lasts for four days. Praying for the safety of the missionaries and that more people will be brought to Christ. *huge smile*

On yet another topic, I'm on Pinterest! If you're on there, be sure to follow me! I just found it recently, and so far it's pretty fun!

What about you? How has your life been?

In His love,
Suzanne

autumn please come

Listening to: Moonlight Sonata

Quote love: "I don't like standard beauty. There is no beauty without strangeness." -Karl Lagerfeld

Autumn is the best time of year.

It's when the boots (with fuzz in them) and denim jackets get unburied from the closet. When the trees fling away their leaves and the sky pulls on a gray blanket. When the air smells like cinnamon and there's a pumpkin in the middle of the table. It's the time of hot chocolate with marshmallows, whirlwinds of leaves, and Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The air is sharp and a plaid scarf is worn. I like that.

because of sharp air,

strings of lights,

and apples

wearing

candy.

and books and stories

and characters lit

by candle light.

and music plays

and a war

is won.

Autumn, please come soon.

In His love,
Suzanne