Welcome to the ghoulies and the ghosties
and the spirits
of ancestors long since dead,
and welcome to those who remember them as if they are still here.
Welcome to oranges and golds
and to wood smoke and sunsets and the chill in the air
that reaches your bones and your toes.
Welcome to October,
to the darkening of the year,
to traditions and tales to tell and moments of reflection.
Welcome, welcome, to the ancient
Month of Stories.
Sit for a spell and take your share.
It’s been a little while since I’ve participated in Rebecca’s monthly poetry challenge over at Fake Flamenco. November’s is to write a haiku about something in nature that fascinates you, and that’s right up my alley. So, here are a couple of offerings.
Though we may hold on
Nature knows when the time’s right
To just let things go
Bare limbs twist and reach
Like wanting hands to the sky
Hungry for winter
I’m particularly inspired by nature in fall and winter, and I love the change in the color and light, and the bare limbs of the trees. So, this challenge came along at the perfect time! And if you’d like to join the fun, you’ve got until November 13th. 😊
Almost gone, your leaves
Fallen and caught by the wind
You know what’s coming
It seems to have happened overnight, though I know it didn’t: We woke up this morning, and just like that, our birch tree is ready for winter. It always makes me a little melancholy, watching a season end. But I love winter, and hopefully this year, we’ll have some snow.
There are still plenty of colorful leaves on some of our other trees, so we’re not quite there yet. But winter is certainly on its way, y’all.
Beautiful, isn’t it?
But it burns out so quickly.
It’s feeling very much like autumn around here lately. The leaves have started to change in earnest.
And some have already fallen.
It’s hard not to be in a good mood with colors like this.
Especially on a Friday. 😊
A quick note, I’ll be taking a quick break through Monday to visit family, so I’ll be back and posting again on Wednesday, October 19th. Until then, I wish you all happy creating!
The color of
fortune
and
fervor,
of mornings
and sunsets,
of fate
and flair
and feelings
and flame
lays its claim
to the leaves
again.
And we –
only passing and
making our way
in this world –
we get to see
for the briefest time
this lucky red
that dyes
the ties
that bind.
How fleeting,
fading fast,
it seems,
and nothing lasts,
they say.
But this,
surely this
we can hold,
always there,
bright
and bold,
in our memory.
To fade,
to fall,
to create space –
Nature doesn’t just
let go
in autumn.
It makes room
to grow.
How will you be spending it?
Here in my little corner of Virginia, it rained yesterday for the first official day of fall, and I spent most of it inside, reading. Today, I’m volunteering with a fifth-grade book club. We’ll be discussing Because of Winn-Dixie, which is one of the sweetest and most adorable books I’ve ever read. And after that, who knows? Perhaps Graham and I will get out and about and run some errands, or maybe I’ll sit and write. I do have a short story to post by the end of the month, after all. 😉
Whatever you do with this first autumn Friday, I hope it’s something worth doing, and that it makes you happy.
Until next year.
I’m always a little melancholy when one season ends, but also happy and excited to see a new season start. I wonder what this autumn will bring. Good things, I hope.
I used to be afraid of spiders, but now, living in the country, I look at them as friends. Well, mostly. I certainly wouldn’t want to meet the wrong spider at an inopportune moment, and some relationships work best with a little distance. But I find the ones that set up shop around our property to be largely unintrusive, and interesting, and honestly, sort of beautiful. And it helps that their webs keep the other bugs and pests away.
Now that we’re coming into fall, I’ve seen several.
Mostly writing spiders, which as a writer myself, I can’t help but feel a certain kinship with.
That’s strange, isn’t it? But we women have stories in us, and deep down, I think we’re all weavers and makers.
And I figure, outside in the fields and trees and such, I’m really in their territory, not the other way around. So, as long as they keep to themselves, I’ll do the same.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 