Fall clearance

Leaves are powerful things. When they change colors in the fall, they become an industry in themselves. Leaf peepers flock to New England and other parts of the country to see the vibrant colors. And they are spectacular.

For years, I pressed fall leaves to send to my folks in Florida. There they enjoyed the warm weather year-round, but palm trees have nothing on fall foliage.

I lived in New Hampshire for a time, which gave me a front-row seat on prime leaf season and its devotees. Even moving back to the Philadelphia area gave me enough colorful falls to fully appreciate the change of seasons.

Now there’s another reason I look forward to fall: I can hear satellite radio again.

I am a SiriusXM subscriber. My go-to stations are Laugh USA, BBC World Service, and E Street Radio. When I’m driving my mom, I tune to Siriusly Sinatra. When I need a change of pace, I can surf the 100+ stations available.

And when I drive tree-lined backstreets, I switch to terrestrial radio to hear local FM public radio stations.

More than just liking public radio, channels on the FM band come in loud and clear wherever I drive around town. Not so with satellite radio. There are constant dropouts driving through wooded areas, such as the state park, shortcuts into town, and various backroads that bypass the highway. Dropouts are particularly annoying when listening to satellite comedy channels, because I always miss the punchline.

All that changes when the leaves fall. Clear reception returns. It’s hard to believe something as thin and flimsy as a leaf can effectively block radio signals.

Consider how satellite radio works. A ground station transmits a digital data signal from earth, traveling more than 22,000 miles to reach two satellites in geostationary orbit, which then bounce the signal down to radio receivers on the ground. The signal is unscrambled and sent to my car radio, with instantaneous channel changes whenever I press a button.

It’s a perfect setup, until it isn’t. I don’t have a scientific explanation for the dropouts I experience under leaf cover, I’m just putting forth my observational theory. More leaves, more dropouts.

For now, all is well. The fall foliage was again spectacular this year. Now that the trees are bare, it's my satellite radio reception that's awesome.

Living in the future

It’s the first day of April. The magnolias are in bloom and my daffodils are already spent. The lawn is in wicked need of a cut. And the ceiling fans have been on several nights over the past few unseasonably warm weeks.

By all indications, it should be mid-May or later.

Yesterday was the culmination of many months of anticipation in my house. It was the 19th Annual Tyler Arboretum 10k Trail Run, and my husband is the race director. While the event is his baby, I play the supporting spouse. I act as a sounding board, help to make sure nothing falls through the cracks, and shoot hundreds of photos on race day. The work is fun and rewarding; it’s the constant thinking ahead to a future date that can create stress.

Living in the future disorients me as much as seeing back-to-school sales in July (which I have) and Christmas decorations in August (ditto).

It’s hard to stay grounded in the here and now when things keep rushing the future.

It makes me all the more eager for yoga class, which reminds me to be present on my mat. To focus on the task at hand. To live fully today. Even as the rest of the world speeds toward tomorrow.