November 23, 2012



Ah, 'tis late November.  I love this time of year.

Time to retire the pumpkins and cornstalks to the garden compost.

Indian Corn can be saved for another year of autumnal decor, safe from a hungry mouse of course.

Store dried gourds in old baskets atop a cupboard.

Turn your thoughts from nature's palette of oranges, yellows and russet to boughs of green, berries of red and the glitter of silver and gold.

Meadows of snow?

It's coming...








Time to feather your nest.

Don those mittens and scarves.

Pull heavy winter quilts out of hibernation.

Move those hefty stoneware mugs saved for homemade hot chocolate to the front of the shelf.  You know, the ones you relish to the back of the cupboard when warm breezes arrive.  Yes those. *smile*

Refill oil lamps and lanterns.  Check your supply of candles, pity the thought of Christmas, or winter for that matter, sans candlelight. *shudder*

Stockpile wood to the porch.  Got plenty of kindling, yes?







Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.

Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;

though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there’s left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn’t cracked. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.

-Barbara Crooker





You have been missed.

Love,
tj
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