winter runs off

one of the benefits of having a dog is that she forces you outside. 

even on damp and gloomy days when you would prefer to sit under a blanket 

with a steaming beverage, the dog must evacuate. 

so you go bravely into the great grey melt down.

the sound of running water fills our woodsy hamlet. water raining down, dripping from trees, rushing in streams that are usually silent and dry.

our creek is generally naught but a trickle with a few stagnant pools. 

today it is a tumbling drunk choir, adorned in stunning little waterfalls, 

a bold brook rather than a shy stream. tributaries are swollen with purpose, 

mountain quartz flirting through rivulets and moss.

imbolg entered in a moody shroud of rain water, holding her flaming torch high, 

melting the snows, shedding light on an impending season, 

and offering a bright promise of regeneration.

where i am wednesday

it's amazing that i can live out here in the beautiful countryside, with woods and creek and decks and hammock, and sometimes not go out into our yard for days. tristan and i are still trying to find our rhythm at home in the new season, and sometimes we spend huge chunks of our time hanging around inside, lining up cars, playmobil characters, and blocks, eating snacks, reading books, and sneaking peeks at the internets way too often.





sometimes i'll say, tristan, let's go outside, and he'll say, no, i don't want to, and i'll say, well, ok, in an effort to spare one more battle. but then there is usually a battle of some sort anyway, because, let's face it, we drive each other nuts when we are inside too much.



so today i said, we're going outside, and i walked out there. he followed. the autumnal light filtering through the leaves was exquisite. we collected fallen leaves, twigs, and acorns. he silently made mudpies for a good half hour. he rolled a brick around. i hula hooped.









we walked down into the woods, collected tree-stuff in a bucket, waded in the creek, observed the changes in the forest, and felt, quite simply, at peace and in bliss.

autumn equinox really speaks to me, the oppressive heat and humidity of summer mostly gone. the beautiful quality of light pooling on surfaces covered in leaf and nut. warmth appreciated, punctuated by breeze and rustle. and a great sense of transition into a time of reflection, rhythm, and survival. sometimes the summers around here are so intense, that the call to nature is strongest in the autumn and the spring.



i'm looking forward to spending more time really appreciating where i am. i hope to share some of that reverence with you!