In memory

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November afternoon, North Hampton. iPhone photo from a walk the other day.

The figurine at Betsey Cotton’s grave in Little River Cemetery is still there.

We had our first snow last night, crystalline flurries all blown away by today’s gusty north winds.

Too soon with the tinsel, you fools!

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America, it is mid-November. Why are you turning red-and-green and glitter-silver? Why are you sparkling the velvet dark with Christmas lights? Why are you playing the jingle music?

The season’s colors are browns and grays. Let the dark come early.

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The season’s sounds are geese overhead, a blasting gun in the back woods, rain turning to sleet, icy glass dropping from silver clouds.

The sounds are book pages turning, the old dog snoring in front of the fire. In the other room, hear the steam from pots lifting and dropping lids like shimmering cymbals, almost-time-for-dinner.

All in good time, all in good time.

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Let the flowers die, the seeds fall, and the earth sleep.

Be quiet, be still, and get ready for grace. 

I write a letter to a tree

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Dear Japanese Maple In Our Front Yard,

Way to go, tree. I am impressed by your ability to hold on to your leaves through the first frosts and early cold. And then, when the other trees are bare naked, or clinging to a few crispy brown leaves, you turn on the color. And what color it is! I’m not even going to try to name it. I will just take a picture and share it with my friends. Thank you for being beautiful today.

Love, Amy

Fall back

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Daylight Savings Time has ended. A walk in the woods yesterday morning. The extra hour was nice, at that point.

A bit strange to drive home from work in the dark.

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On my morning walk, I found that my husband left his mark on the woods. Grandfather Pine was decorated.

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Some of my own decorations from a few years ago are still left along the same trail too.