November

The last flames of fall

It's fitting that the first road sign I saw, on my way to church this morning, bore the name Winter Street. Today was one of the bleakest days we've had all season: cold grey sky with wintry clouds, and a nipping wind. Yet there was a beauty even in the bleakness. The trees, which just a week ago were thick with red and yellow, have dropped the end-of-season finery, and their branches are beginning to show. It's lovely and a little strange to see their shapes again. Walking along, wrapped in coat and scarf, I could almost have said, "I have looked on beauty bare," despite all Millay says to the contrary. This is the time of year when the days begins to grow dark, and home starts looking a little brighter and warmer because of it. And as the weather turns colder and more grey, the holidays begin to glow like candles in the distance, brightening the whole calendar. I've been having stray thoughts of potatoes and turkey and apple pie, Lantern Waste and beavers' dams and hot marmalade roll; and more than once I've caught myself humming carols. The time isn't far off, folks. There's a new season just around the corner. Let's begin it with thanksgiving.