watching him work with a spoon
in the emerging mud
layers of ice
ice once so hard,
impossible to break through.
Remember the morning we couldn’t leave,
couldn’t get into our car
covered in ice so thick, so cold
the doors frozen shut?
Remember the night we couldn’t speak
because there was so much frozen
When we cut them
down in the swamp
the fuzz was nearly invisible,
still tucked inside.
Two days in the house,
and here they are.
Warmth does that.
Oh, this morning. Breathtaking over the lake. The light. The way the clouds move. Misty blowing snow.
And look at her, taking him out early to let out the chickens, while I am still upstairs, just getting out of bed.
all the silent voices speak of
a winter that arrived in the mist of autumn
The colors seem especially brilliant this year with all the rain and overcast skies.
More so than any season, in October I feel I’m like going out into a new landscape every morning.
I find that I want to spend as much time as I can outside, even in the rain.
I want to tell you about reaching up
into the apple tree
to pick a wild apple,
when a shower came down from the leaves
and a drop fell on the corner of my right eye
and rolled down my face —
a single tear.
I wished I had brought my Nikon camera. My old Olympus just doesn’t do well in low light. And yet, it was dark in there, in the evening, in the swamp. So, there is something about this photo that feels especially true.
I’m watching her love her fur boy Theo on the edge of the woods, with the late September light on her hands, feeling so grateful for unconditional dog love when so many things in this world are so complicated.