Late Fall is a time when color drains from the ruddy cheeks of the fallen maple leaves. The fields are turned to straw the hue of faded gold and the last remains of the native plants are shriveled and brown, like ancient parchment paper that disintegrates beneath the touch of your hand.
There is a dreamy slumbering feeling of peace that shrouds this transformation and beckons us to follow. I am being called to rest, slow my pace, sit still, turn inward, stare at the fire with a mug of hot cider and good book in hand. Soon there will be snow piling up around our house, blanketing the last of the browned and burnt flora. I will wrap myself all toasty in the new blanket gifted to us by my mother-in-law, the one made from the wool of her sheep, and watch the snowflakes fall, dance and gather.
There are boxes of root vegetables stored for the winter, ready to be turned into soups, stews, roasted vegetable dishes, omelets... Their colors appear rich against the quiet tones of late Fall, reminding me of the oil paintings my mother used to paint.
Frost like sugar coating is making its appearance with more frequency, the temperatures are dropping, the sun is low in the sky and sets just after 4 pm.
As the warm cloak of darkness settles into the crevices of my home, of my being
i light a candle
and chant one word
welcome
Sharing:
I will be teaching at Valley Ridge in October of 2010. More details here.
My friend Gem interviewed me for her inHERview series here.
and some poetic goodness for your ears and heart.
