Autumn Memory
Crisp that’s how I remember Autumn.
I can still hear the rakes gathering maple and oak leaves
Piling high golden dreams
No sooner would the leaves be in a pile ready for flight, again
Crisp with laughter
Crisp with childhood possibilities.

Far away now
Full of memory to a place, I once knew as my home
What’s there now?
My family like leaves
Caught by distance, wind, and other dreams.
by Elizabeth Farrell


I love this time of year. The quiet season begins. I have such rich memories of the Fall. I miss Autumn in New England. It’s almost dreamy.  

We are story weavers. Our lives made of stories we have lived and told. We make meaning out of our stories. I love a good story. I started telling stories as a child.  Rich with imagination, I created fictional stories that I wanted everyone to believe. My life has been made up of fascinating characters and at times dramatic plot lines. A coach once said to me that I am a masterful story weaver. I took it as a compliment, even though she was coaching me on being in my experience more than in the story of it. 

What story are you telling?

You can add so many juicy details (or not). Your choice. Your story has power. You create your life story. You are the main character, why not make it exciting, juicy, rich with adventure, and a story you must tell. 

When you tell your story, you are free of it.