The season is shifting. I swear there’s an olfactory closet in my brain that holds onto the smell of sharpened pencils. There’s a door that opens as the days grow shorter and the nights have a tinge of crisp apple in the air.
Everyone I have spoken to can’t believe how quickly this summer has gone. Is it the news cycle? Is it the weather patterns? Or is it, as I’d like to think, a renewed embracing of all of the good things in our lives: the long, storied evenings with friends and families; crickets and barred owls keeping you company during late night barbecues; the splashing, diving and cannonballing off docks with squealing children; the fresh, local produce (oh, the heavenly smell of Ontario peaches!); rainstorms that send you racing to the nearest couch with a juicy summer read; clear nights when the moon reflects over still waters; work emails that are ignored for days, because you know everyone else is out of the office and really, what is the point?
As with every year at this time, I look around my garden and see endless unfinished projects. My springtime optimism has been swallowed by the reality of cucumbers that didn’t grow, tomatoes that blighted early, kale gobbled by caterpillars. But then there was the garden magic –– purple beans that climbed eight feet to the sky. I swear they would have kept going up to the giant’s castle! Defeat and celebration go hand in hand in a garden.
But the end of this year’s summer cycle opens the way for other kinds of adventures. I can’t help but be excited as the earth’s orbit takes us into fall. My brain suddenly picks up speed and starts to race. Shiny new ideas jostle for attention alongside projects left percolating. Has it really been three months since I opened that file?
Somewhere in all of the riotous joy of this past summer I launched a new book, Looking at the Sky: How Janusz Korczak Fought for Children’s Rights. I loved the readings and speaking events that I did. But being summer, many people were away and I didn’t devote as much time to the book as I normally would. It felt more like a dress rehearsal than an opening night.
That’s another reason why fall feels redolent with opportunity. It can be a re-set, a re-engagement, a re-launch.
So, I’m excited to dive into a fall when I can dedicate focussed time on Looking at the Sky, as well as new projects. It’s a book that I love more with each reading. A book that tells a story of hope and respect.
The world needs the words of Janusz Korczak now, more than ever. I look forward to sharing his story with you online and in-person.
Stepping off the Treadmill 