All around, I hear it:
The hum of new life –
of growing things,
buzzing and flying,
a gentle flap of beating wings,
the stir of wind through the blossoms –
this song that each year nature sings.
It seems that here,
in a season and a blur,
no more than a blink,
we are suddenly,
all of us,
ready for spring.
Winter whispers
through the fields
and the forests,
breathes new life
into the silver moon,
soft and steady and still.
Only a tingle of ice,
a mist of frost
in the air,
It says:
Not quite time,
no,
not yet there,
but soon.
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.
I feel it in the cool morning air. I see it in the subtle turning of the leaves. I am ready.
*Also a quick note: If you commented on my last post, I wanted to say a very heartfelt thank you. I have been overwhelmed and so appreciative of the outpouring of love, support, and kindness, and once again at the number of women who have shared their own stories with me. Thank you, thank you. Your sweet words and caring thoughts have made this dark and painful time a little brighter. I am grateful for you.*
What’s left
when the leaves
have fallen
and the grass
has gone fallow?
Once the air’s grown cold
and the night sky’s shifted,
once the frost has
come and covered
the hills and meadows,
what’s left to us
in this new
season of darkness?
To rest, to sleep,
to build a hearth fire,
to watch it snow.
To breathe deep and
release a sigh out
among the coming
winter winds.
These belong to us,
are made for us and
left to us by the maiden
and the mother and the crone.
Just as it begins
when new things grow
in a world made bright,
the old year ends
quiet and star light,
with a gentle
and a loving
letting go.
It’s mid-July. This is usually about the point in the summer when I start wishing for cooler days and fall leaves and eventually (my favorite thing) snow. And, yep, we’re here.
It’s hot.
I’m over it.
I’m ready for a little relief from the 90+ degree heat (Fahrenheit) we’ve been dealing with. Not that hot compared to some places, I know, but pretty much a heatwave here in Virginia.
So, I spent today being a sweaty, grumpy mess, looking at pictures of all the wintry places where we’ve traveled.
Iceland.
Alaska.
Another Iceland. This is the beach I’d like to be sitting on right about now.
I love all the seasons, really, and I don’t think I could live in a place where there’s no variety in the weather. I appreciate that Virginia has a cool, crisp fall, a (sometimes) snowy winter, a temperate spring, and a very summery summer.
I’m just not feeling it right this minute. Which is fine. It just gives me an opportunity to daydream about snowy days. And they’ll be here soon enough.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 