One of my favorite October memories is Jeeping in the great Pacific Northwest. We were up on the side of the Cascades flailing down dirt roads that were pocked with deep holes and stones. When it was my turn to drive I kept hitting the breaks afraid of slamming into the bumps too hard and ripping out a muffler. (Where was that rental contract? Tell me I didn’t waive the accident damage policy. I can’t remember. Yikes, there is curve coming up in three seconds.)

“No,” my buddy Jim screamed, “you don’t slow down. You go faster so that your are riding only on top of the bumps. You don’t want to sink into the valleys.”

I screamed back into the wind, “What are you crazy? Like taking the moguls on a ski slope? That’s suicide.”

“Stomping on the brakes will actually cause you to go into a spin. Try it my way, trust me.”

I did and he was right.

But staying with the momentum of ‘full out or stop’ took more internal ‘umph’ than Formula 1 driving skills. My worldview of scarcity (and let’s face it, a through acculturation in a stern German household) still drums in my ears, ‘hold back you never know what’s around the corner.’ Well, duh, going slow doesn’t help that does it? I am having to face facts in the face of October. I cannot control one stupid thing in my life so why not live full out? Why not choose to be fearless and frolic with laughter, color and hope?

Behold October. She heralds the inevitable winter. And frankly it’s as if the month is clueless as to what is about to happen. The blue sky pops out against the raucous colors of the trees. Even in temperate zones the Iceplant, Firebush and Liquid Ambers splash red, yellow and orange with abandon. Each leaf hand-painted; glazed stained-glass on a stem. Alas, from whence comes all this joy? I want to blow a whistle and slap Autumn in it’s cool wet face and scream, “Hold on to your color, release it slowly. Don’t be so shortsighted. Watch your back, Jack Frost wants to move in and claim your turf. Why don’t you hold back? Have you no fear?” Apparently not.

The month of October is generous to our senses and kind to our souls. The song of angels echos in the wild wind, swirls about my feet and there is nothing for it but to allow the dance to commence. October just hasn’t got it within her to be stingy. It is almost painful to watch what the lack of propriety provides. Hilarity gushes forth at every turn along with the overflowing gutters.

Perhaps the melancholy that sits in the pit of my stomach is that I know about winter…that she-devil spewing silent barren landscapes of blue-tinted dunes.  I know that life can offer up a very cold shoulder after a time of rapid creativity. Ah, how I bask and flourish in the illusion of control. And doesn’t every writer know the gut wrenching nausea after three straight days of writing pure gold you wake up and the muse has left the building. Forget the Ides of March, spring is in the air then. It’s the Ides of October that should put the fear of God into you. And I ask you, is this Autumnal grande finale saying, ‘toss your cares to the wind, ride the top of the bumps and trust’? Or am I hearing Peggy Lee singing, “is that all there is, my friend?” Bets the heck out of me.

So, I will collect the shiny leaves for tonight’s centerpiece. And even though I know full well I will wake up the next morning to find shriveled useless brown remains I will have my moment of art from nature. And thanks to October I have decided to celebrate the life I have today, right now, in the moment.

Last night I went to a dance (think Prom for old farts). I boisterously sang all the words I knew to the songs, which was about a 50-50 ratio. I let my partners swing me around until I was giddy and girlish. And yes I woke up with a stiff neck. But for now, for October, I have promised myself to live full out. It’s the least I can do given the array of wonderment outside my door.