time

fall has arrived. cold mornings. a bit darker for a bit longer. and this yellow light. it is 1:30 in the afternoon and it looks like summer's 5 o'clock. a hard breeze is coming through, sending all the pine needles down like rain. it even sounds like rain. i am wearing a sweater. done painting for the day and ready to curl up with a drawing instead.

morning

there is a heavy and loud wind coming down from the forest. heavy and oppressive. gorgeous. and then a thick silence. no cars on the road even. dead silence. and yellow leaves spinning. i hear it before i feel it, the rush, the screech of tall trees swaying and whining. limbs are coming down. inga raises her noise and catches the strange scents of deer and bobcat carried down to us from the high forest.

there is something eerie in the silence that follows and the blue light of this morning. there is something forbidding in it. ominous, in spite of its luxurious feel and sound. disconcerting and strange. the yellow leaves spin. they are the signal. they are a warning. my pages flutter. there is an awful determination in this weather. the tall trees sway and drop their pods. the squirrels are gone.

if i had tough shoes and a better coat- a good coat that i could get dirty- it would be a day for brave photography. the solitude and loneliness of the camera. there is that type of death in this wind- the death of frozen things, people held down, and cars turned on their side.

huge branches are starting to fall now.

and last night i lay awake a long time and my thoughts turned angry, hurt, selfish. desirous. i couldn't sleep. was it 'The Bloody Chamber'? i couldn't get comfortable. even the pillows became cynical, ill at ease, uncomfortable, and inadequate. i tossed and turned in my angry thoughts for hours. this wind, in from under the front door, rattled my heart and made it hurt, made it go mean.

i woke and found things on the ground that weren't here before. the forest branches and bits of litter from the highway. the wind is to blame. i woke and all the angry thoughts had been carried off. i woke happy:

the coffee in my new white mug and the pen in my hand,
the new white page waiting.

mmmmmm...

i really do love Fall. the need to bundle up gets me thinking of deep, warm quilts and sweaters and scarves- all sorts of reasons for me to spend more and more time with my trusty crochet hook. and that's exactly what i've been doing all day today. my right hand is pretty well cramped and tired at this point but it's alright. i know how to smile through the creative pains. :) for sure.

it's our turn to make dinner for the neighbors this evening. it has become our sunday tradition. it's pretty cool seeing as how neither i nor my sweetheart have any family in the area other than each other. so we're making family traditions with our friends instead. it's a good thing. especially since the holidays are basically here. Halloween kick starts it all- the mad holiday rush, rush, rush.

yeah, i'm already thinking about thanksgiving and Christmas... things to make. i think i'd like to put the whole handmade movement to work for me this year. especially since everyone is having some NOT FUN economic woes, why not return to what the holidays are really supposed to be about? why not operate with faith from the notion that it really is the thought that counts? besides, i've got skillz. and i'm sure i can find a way to harness them for a sweet and warm holiday season this year. some of the best Christmases we ever had growing up were the ones when we hardly had anything; when money was super tight and we all had to get creative. those were the times when we really came together as a family. when we were warm and gentle with one another. when we felt thankful and safe and loved.

change...

it is cold here. it has been for the past two days. it looked sunny and bright and warm through the window, but i stepped out in to a strong icy wind. seems autumn has actually arrived. all orange and yellow. and if not for the wind, it might have been warm.

autumn is a strange time for me. there's something in how the light comes down. there's something in all this yellow that makes me feel some type of quiet longing. a memory in the body, i suppose. this is the time of year when things seem more valuable and more special than they would have in summer... and the days stretch out. not quite long but slow. it makes me wish i were independently wealthy so that me and my sweetie could sleep in and stay under our quilts all day, hide from the cold outside and watch movies in bed. no work, no fatigue, no responsibility; just us, snuggled up against the strange longing that finds me each year in this season. i don't know why. i don't know if it's good or bad, just that it's the case... and it has everything to do with all the yellow coming down from the trees.