Toward a theory of October and then away

I think that we had a bit of frost the other morning, but this morning's was more widespread. The outdoor thermometer sits about five feet from the ground and showed a low of 33 at 7:09 AM. Our wood stove keeps us cozy. We've not yet had to turn on the heat. It's October.
By month's end, the leaves will be down. There's an order to these things, seasons coming and going with a familiar rhythm.  The record high for this date was 86 in 1939. Two hundred years ago, there was a snow hurricane; heavy snow and brutal winds caught and killed many. Lows in three weeks will be, on average, six degrees lower, but not as low as the actual reading this morning. NECN meteorologist Tim Kelley often reminds us that weather averages are interesting, but rarely useful for anything going on today. Averages of big numbers can be useful for spotting trends, but are generally not applicable to an individual situation.
As Sandra and I sat at dinner this evening (she's doing fine after her cataract surgery this week), we took a moment to reflect. We thought about the people near to us, family and friends and neighbors, and of the many, many more who go about their lives, completely unaware of what's bringing joy or ache in our hearts. Everything that's so important to us, all of our loves and hopes and tears and dreams, means absolutely nothing to all but a few.
And this is why it's not good to brood too much. It's ok to watch the frost in the morning or the thumbnail moon at night, to listen to one of those hurts-so-good autumn songs. 

See the geese in chevron flight
Flapping and racing on before the snow

Urge For Going by Joni Mitchell

Just don't spend a lot of time chasing big answers. Big answers are like averages; they work for large numbers of people, but often aren't much help to you. My step-father, Linc, was a physician. He noted that, on average, every person has less than one testicle.