An October Morning

I almost didn’t come to the Battlefield this morning. My body wanted to settle with my coffee, a word puzzle, and Lucy on my lap. But my brain nudged me toward a different choice: a little exercise, and the possibility of discovering what I might miss on a cool October morning.

So I went.

No matter where you look—up, down, or all around—there’s something lovely to see. October brings a softness to this place that’s hard to describe. Maybe it’s the leaves falling quietly into my hair, the gentle sun warming my shoulders, or the grass whispering an invitation to look closer.

October is show-off month. The fields are turning bronze. Soon they’ll be shouting it out. Trees shine in the morning sun, their golden edges sharply outlined as they loose their orange and yellow leaves onto the dusty trail. In the woods, they frame magical vignettes, each more beautiful than a painting.

Sometimes I wonder what stories the old trees might tell us about the men who died here, the fierceness of the battle fought on this ground, the lives forever changed by what happened here more than a century and a half ago.

Then I return to what I see: the beauty of October all around me.

And my soul is glad.