aaaautumn. it is whispering its way through the forest and into our home.
i feel it slipping through unsealed windows. i see it in the leaves beginning to change. i feel it like a cold hand, a warm shawl, murmurs from the grave, alchemical shifts in the fire.
it is a time of harvest stew, mugs of hearty drink and fresh baked delights.
my late august birthday is a personal shift in season. our wedding anniversary falls around equinox. it is time to face the years' renewal and to remind oneself of commitments.
there are so many things i love about autumn. it is sensory in such a different way than other seasons. spring is aural, summer is flesh. but autumn is wrapped up in the threads of memory, the urge to follow one's quest, the necessity of survival. it heightens the urge to work with yarn & fabric, pen & papyrus, a large pile of unread texts. and so i toast a steaming mug to autumn, pull my hat over my ears and hold my babies close. because the lasting warmth is that which we find in each other.
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