autumn falling

nearly as many leaves adorn the ground now as they do the tree limbs.  skeletal silhouettes of oaks and tulip poplars show themselves along the ridge lines, with a smattering of green from the pines and hemlocks cascading down the slopes and softening the impact.  the glory days of autumn have come and gone for the year, and she is slowly but surely handing over the torch to the coming colder, shorter days.  and that smell!  the one of the woods in the fall, that sweet but at the same time pungently (and somehow pleasantly) acrid smell of decaying leaves...

autumn falling.  and I like it.

something about this transition from autumn to winter grows on me more and more each year.  I am charmed by it, embrace it instead of shoo it away.  perhaps it's the return of soup and the motivation to once again bake our bread.  or the firing up of the wood stove and the way we all gather in the warmth it produces.  maybe it's parenting, the craziness that it can bring about, and the resulting appreciation I have for just about anything in this greater world that makes me just stop and slow down.  stop.  smell that smell.  stop.  look,  just look.  no, no, really look!  at the super saturated colors, at the mountains on fire, at the fall-blue sky, at the tenacious oak leaves, curled up just-so and hanging on for the long haul.  listen, as they rattle in the breeze.  stop.  listen to the 'lu-uck! lu-uck!' of geese as they dance across the grey-lit evening sky in formation and on to warmer places.  slow down, add another layer.  slow down,  stoke the fire.

put the kettle on.

I'm even alright with this shift towards darkness, early as it comes......  more than alright, truth be told. get in, hunker down, be with your people, it says.


yes, yes, yes.



**joining in for the november prompt-a-day over at write alm