I love this time of year when the air turns brisk and the trees and plants send their energy down deep into the earth to rest. So, cleaning up the yard; making blankets of mulch from chopped up leaves to keep the perennials cozy; digging for dandelion, poke and comfrey roots after a good, hard frost; settling in, finally, to do things that take longer stretches of time: studying, making art, reading, thinking more deeply about things in the dark.
This will be my first winter without a parent. Facing the cold, dark time in the “front line” between this mortal life and all the rest of what is or is not. During this time of year when the veil between the worlds is thin … it seems even thinner when your parents are on the other side (whatever that side is). I feel exposed, but I also feel freer and — is it possible? — more powerful? expansive?
I have the whole winter to sort that one out.
But for now, there are some leaves in need of raking.