An Autumn Walk to the Trappist Monastery Gate Fallen Leaves on the Slope and the Scent of Cookies

As I walked the tree-lined avenue toward the Trappist Monastery, I could hear leaves rustling in the breeze. It was a morning in October, and I had on a pale lavender coat and was carrying a paper-wrapped packet of cookies from the shop. Buying something sweet first always gives me something to look forward to on a walk. I wondered if I'd eat one before looking at the gate, but for now, I took my time beneath the trees.

Near the gate, the path sloped upward, with a narrow handrail running along its middle. A little farther up, I could see the brick gate, small in the distance. My eyes moved naturally from the fallen leaves at my feet to the shape of the gate above. I'd driven close by, but the nearer I got on foot, the more I noticed the sounds around me. Being there on foot felt different from the drive I'd just finished.

I stopped beside the slope and took a cookie from its paper wrapper. One bite filled my mouth with sweetness and the scent of butter. It was so good I wanted another right away, but I looked at the cookie in my hand and let myself savor it a little longer. A treat eaten on a path like this somehow feels more special than an everyday snack.

When I looked up, the same gate was still there beyond the path of fallen leaves. Nothing had changed, but I felt calmer than I had before taking a bite. I straightened my coat cuff and took in the trees on both sides. If I'd hurried straight to the gate, I might have walked right past the shape of those branches and the sound of the leaves.

The monastery was founded in 1896. I knew this place from the name on its sweets, but hearing that its story stretched back so far made me want to look at the building all over again. The monks make the cookies and the fermented butter, too. When I thought of the cookie I'd just eaten as part of this place, I found myself holding the wrapper more gently.

Should I have one more, or save the rest for when I got home? I looked at the gate, still undecided, then chose to save the rest for home and remember the cookie I'd had here today. When I folded the wrapper closed, even my steps back down the slope slowed. Maybe, when I open the packet at home, I'll remember the breeze against my coat and the gate beyond the handrail. I tucked the cookies away carefully, wanting to take the rest of my autumn walk home with me.