Sometimes when nothing is happening, something gallantly surfaces, or resurfaces if we were paying attention a few seasons ago. These first few days of October glow with gold. Full of wealth again from this evocative wash of prized sunlight across a window that was once opened. Lightly, trustingly, the gilded leaves fall from tall, gnarled trees around the grounds of our nest.Late afternoons inside the kitchen, I don’t mind the solitary twirls of a wandering leaf to keep me company as I wait for voices to bounce down the hallway.Out here in the forest, the climbing and wonder dwindle from our thoughts. Tiptoe, creep up the path tangled with thorns of September past, a depth and moodiness washing through the glass. Frogs croak no more, crickets’ songs once everywhere, now unheard. Weeds once yanked from the soil, now left untouched with thoughts that the approaching sky will leave it shriveled and eventually concealed with a mat of leaves. But further along underneath another shrouding path, a choir of mushrooms rejoice. Something sets off deep into the woods and just like that a house becomes a home.And although, I haven’t arrived at the story I wanted to tell you, the spaces between have been taking up thoughts in my head. Hence, with no results to show with the house that is, step by step I will be au fait with my home and know that the process will bring wealth again to my nest. Things are whipped and worn, other corners not faring so well…their stories waiting to be told. And while the spaces between have a ways to go, they are preparing to rejoice one square foot by one square foot. In the meantime, I’m trying to gather all the chestnuts before tires crush them with their past fates into the compost. It’s a feat; they are prickly and those puffy cheeked shade tails are swift and wily. I’m determined to get crafty myself in the kitchen before the arboreal rodents hoard them all for themselves, but more importantly I’ll forge on like my forest friends to make certain we stay tucked and safe in our nest.