The season changes once more, and I descend from fragrant hills and mountain footholds toward valleys and plains. On occasion now I can hear the din of villages below, and find fields ready to unfold their harvest. The people of this land have had, it seems, a good growing year.
When summer slips into fall's embrace, I often contemplate entering the service of a lord or king for the difficult winter months. Spring and summer brings quiet and solitude, with my wanderings from place to place, and I enjoy these days when I am not conflicted with what I do.
Yet there is an appeal to spending the cooler seasons among the relative warmth of the common-folk and those who believe are their leaders. For, often kings and lords are filled with boredom and frivolity, and suddenly perceive they are God. For all their wealth and conceived power, they are still men.
God has often sent me in pursuit of such men, and one in particular I owe a visit. I've been asked to right a wrong through his sacrifice, and it will be a rare personal pleasure to do so. For at one time I worked for this king, and it is he who started me upon this path, though this was not his intention.
I shall speak of this more, but for now it is nice to descend from the now musty cave I have spent many weeks in. To enter a small village, where fresh bread cools in doorways, and the sounds of laughter and toil echo distantly from the low hills.
Yes, there has been much loss this summer, and I am suddenly struck by being alone all this time. A church bell reverberates at the edge of the village. Though I speak with God daily, I realize it is long since I have visited his house.
God calls me to home and community and service. Walking now in this direction, I obey.