A Newsletter of Sorts
As the days grow shorter and the skies turn gray here in my corner of the world, I find myself in that curious in-between season. Low light and drizzle seem to be dominating the landscape, even as the news reports suggest we're in a drought. It's a funny time of year.
We've bid farewell to the warm days of summer, not worrying about our footwear, windows open, curtains swaying in the breeze, checking in on the garden. We’ve pickled all the things and now it's "stick season" (somebody even wrote a song about it) - that time when the leaves are starting to rot, and we're supposed to tell them where to go, but I don't want to.
The cool nights aren't quite cool enough for a fire, and the wood is stacked and drying, waiting for the real cold to set in. There's an unsettled quality to this liminal space between fall and winter, this uncomfortable in-between state. But despite the uncertainty, I do look forward to the cold air and the brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the snow. The quiet.
So, I sit with this expectation of something more, an angst that drives me to meditate, cold-dip, and otherwise try to “be in the moment” - all in an attempt to quell the irritation brewing in my mind as I wait for another state, wait for snow, wait for childhood. But this wait is tinged with fear for the things we knew, the seasons we expected, the memories and nostalgia that kept us hopeful, are in the ether hovering so delicately, so easily threatened by a light gust of tropical air.
Where do we go to get through this waiting period, with a promise we can no longer predict or count on? The days tick by, headed for someplace we'd rather be...maybe?
I’m tempted to tie this up in a bow. A shiny red bow. But I can’t.
I’ll kiss the ones I love, sip my coffee and make something new in the studio. And I’ll wait…for the first flakes of snow.
If you made it to this point, you might as well know I’m having a sale on my Etsy site Nov 18th - Dec 4th 25% off everything! www.etsy.com/shop/thestarbirdpottery
