Winter memories,
a pool of water, frozen- which cracks with sunlight. It's Halloween today in the United States, and yet it feels like winter. I came downstairs to all of the lights on, which meant the power went out at some point. It had been really cold in the middle of the night, which turns to rumination on ice storms of the past. Growing up in the Midwest, a deep chill could set in from the wind flowing freely for long stretches of no forests or trees. One year, we had an ice storm so bad, we could not open our doors to go outside. The power was out for nearly a week, with constant cracking sounds, as if the trees were made of glass. Stuck inside and on edge, we slept in the basement with a gas heater. I remember the anxiety of waiting for power to come back on and normalcy, and now it is for a vaccine-yet we have settled into the routine of this day after day-waiting for some sunlight.
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Snow on the milkweed,
an unexpected delight to me and the birds. Early morning and a hard, and wet snow pelted our windows. I feared it was the dreaded "wintery mix" of New England, which is a rather chilly version of sleet. Instead, it turned to a softer fluff and has stuck elegantly to all of the plants. The milkweed is like a popsicle for the birds, keeping the seeds around a bit longer. Of course, our suet feeder has been a fully seated restaurant today, with impatient customers.
Daylight is delayed-
the door is partially closed while the season naps. Early morning and less light than usual. The planet is turning on its axis, like a gentle turn in bed during a long rest. It took longer for all of the birds in the yard to burst into song today-a sign of the changing seasons, and some quiet time.
Clinging to the light-
fire above, and fire below though deluged with rain. Again, sleepless tossing and turning kind of night. It gets chilly in the house when the rain sets in, and it's hard to sleep. Today, rain, rain, rain, and more rain all day. I have been talking to friends and colleagues about waiting for the election results. There will be the sun, we will make our own fires and keep going no matter what. Pictured is our teapot by @calamityware, which I refilled several times today. At least we are not deluged by real dragons and rogue robots.
The cat knows it all-
"The birds are still asleep. Wait, we wait for the song." Cats are the masters of waiting. I often get restless and walk around the house when thinking. The news yesterday made me deeply restless at night, so my sleep was fitful. The cat came up and sat on my legs for a bit to make me stay and wait. It was not time yet to go downstairs. She knows the rhythm of the day and only what the birds say outside, not the news. I will listen to the birds today.
A ceiling of slate
will not crush the golden rush of walking, crunching. Gray day all day, but not the ground. Still a river of gold wherever I go, the crunch underfoot the soundtrack of the season. It lightens my heart through my ears, even though a solid view of slate above might seem oppressive to some. Warm light can be fleeting this time of year. I will find it inside.
Childhood is milkweed,
a pod develops, it's seeds disperse far and wide. The milkweed in our yard is finally dry, It's our annual and joyful ritual to release them to the wind and wish them good luck, and for butterflies to land on them in summertime. We avoid talking about the future. My child finds it scary to think about college and being away from us (at least for now). Someday, she will just fly off into the wind without a thought to look back, I know, but not today.
The leaves are carpet-
golden-sunshine, wallpaper pasted up with light. I took a short walk this morning. My neighborhood streets have trees that have beautiful golden leaves this time of year. If you're lucky, there may be a slight wind which makes the small oval leaves shower down like coins around you, adding to the carpet below. You can feel like a Queen for a moment in the warmth of the sun.
The house shares the moon
on both sides, the trees curtain its monthly visit. Sunny day, beautiful evening of cool air. Where my house sits, I see the rise and fall of the moon to the East and West, it sits in the sky in different parts of each season. Some days in winter, if I wake up early, I can see it pass back down behind the pine tree so bright I feel I can reach out and walk with it. It's the benefit of living across from a parking lot in a dense city, even a plane of concrete can allow some beauty if you wait for it.
The leaves note the change,
and the wind answers through them- autumn at the door. Little by little, the changes of autumn in New England happen through October, and then there are often bursts of color, one last flash until they all fall to the ground. Today there is yellow and red outside my window at work, and I can hear it, too. I am just enjoying the rustle, and no bustle, outside. |
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