Lately, every time I open the calendar on my phone, I can’t help but notice the growing patchwork of colored dots and reminders, family dinners, events, get-togethers, and travel plans all stacked together like ornaments on an already full tree. It’s that unmistakable sign that the holiday season is here again.

A few weeks ago, I shared about the women’s golf retreat I attended for the first time this fall, an annual four-day getaway filled with fairways, laughter, and a whole lot of dimes and quarters. I was a substitute for another gal who couldn’t make it, and when asked to join, I didn’t hesitate. Without overthinking it, I said yes. Though I’m far from an avid golfer, I was reassured it was mostly for fun and as it turns out, that was absolutely true.

There’s something about fall on the farm that stirs my heart. That comforting blend of nostalgia and joy that only comes from being surrounded by family, laughter, and the smell of harvest in the air. Recently, my family gathered for one of my favorite traditions of the year, our annual family dinner and hayride.

It was one of those afternoons when the air felt soft and golden, and the hum of the chicken coop mixed with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. My then 14-month-old granddaughter toddled across the yard, her tiny shoes crunching over apples scattered on the ground. She spotted empty buckets sitting near the coop and with great intention, set them side by side.

The morning sun peeked over the horizon as I loaded my golf clubs into the back of my SUV. My car was packed to the brim including snacks, drinks, grab bag gift, golf shoes, clubs, and more quarters and dimes than I’d carried in all my life. I laughed to myself, wondering if I’d brought everything except the kitchen sink. It was the start of a four-day golf retreat, and although I didn’t quite know what to expect, my heart buzzed with both excitement and a touch of nervous anticipation.

The other evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in soft hues of gold and lavender, I found myself sitting on my front porch lost in my thoughts. The world felt quiet, that beautiful kind of quiet that only comes when the day exhales. A soft breeze rustled the trees, and for the first time in a while, I felt still enough to listen, not to the world around me, but to the whisper within.

Not long ago, I found myself staring at my phone, heart racing, fingers hovering above the keyboard. I had put off writing a response for days because, deep down, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Setting boundaries never feels simple for me. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I don’t want to come across as unkind. And yet, I also know my needs matter and if I don’t honor them, who will?

Recently, I found myself walking through the old barns on the farm with my brother Jeff. The air carried that familiar scent of weathered wood, rust, and hay soaked into the walls over decades of storms, laughter, and long summer days. Jeff is preparing for a sale, letting go of some items the farm no longer needs, tools and treasures that have held their place for over a hundred years.

Recently, I had the opportunity to step into a whole new world: grape harvesting at DC Estate Winery in South Beloit, Illinois. Nestled in the rolling countryside where Illinois and Wisconsin meet, this Tuscan-inspired winery offers more than wine, it offers connection, community, and the beauty of slowing down.

Sometimes life’s sweetest surprises come when we say yes to something new. Last November, my friend Marilyn invited me to join her weekly Mahjong group. I had heard of the game before but never played. To be honest, I wasn’t sure my brain was up for learning something so complicated, but I decided to take a chance. That “yes” became the beginning of new friendships, plenty of laughter, and even a deeper bond with my sister.