Letting Go (A Poem)

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 hot outside, y’all.

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.