I awoke to the first good frost this morning. I could smell it coming last night, and the clear sky with its brilliant stars confirmed my suspicions. Blessed frost, the promise of rest. The woodstove was quickly started, and liquid sunshine began to penetrate my chilly bones. It felt–it feels–wonderful.
It’s good to snuggle into autumn. It has always been my favorite season, the real turn of the year. It’s a time when I consider the fruit of the previous seasons, harvest whatever good came from them, and lay down to rest any failures. I trust that the seeds I planted–either out in the garden or deep within my heart–will hibernate and surprise me later, or die and at least do the soil some good. Autumn also digs into my longing towards keeping a home, towards handwork, towards attentiveness to cultivating love.
What’s funny about this picture is that I am attempting to knit again. Why? Well, don’t wool and winter go together? I love the fiber and the goods made from them, I am missing my loom, and I suppose I’m glutten for punishment as knitting is difficult for me. I resurrected my Instagram account to challenge myself to take more photos of the art forms I am able to do, and also to look for the good things. Do you ever have to do that? Look for the good things, I mean? Sometimes it’s easier to slumber on disappointments.
One of the things I did was rearrange my kitchen. Again. Those of you that have read my book are probably laughing (there she goes, moving the furniture again!) but there it is. It’s one of the things I do when I feel befuddled. I’m still crafting a life in this smaller house, with so many people, still peeling back and asking about everything, is this worth keeping–why do I need this–how can this be better…
Meanwhile, one of my joys this autumn is taking a daily walk. I love to see the colors and hear them crunching under my feet. I love the wispy smoke exhaling from chimneys and the scent of waning sunshine and pine. The mountains behind us have their first dusting of snow, and I’m thankful for the water that we’ll get from it. Sometimes, when I return home, I am blessed with snail mail. I love reading my snail mail. I love writing it, too.
I’m still art journaling, and have a second book almost finished. Have you seen my first one? Sometimes to keep myself learning I have to give myself *homework*. That is, research a topic with a real paperback book, or plan menus out of a brand new cookbook that has new-to-me foods and techniques, or…I dunno…attempt to make fingerless knitted gloves 😉 I peeked in on one of my favorite artists and signed up for one of her workshops, Pilgrimage. I think it was the word that took me in, not just her art or her very charming way of teaching. Pilgrimage. Yes, that is *the word* of my season right now.
Apologies for all of the links within this post; you know I dislike the distraction of such things. But I hope that one or some or most will be of use or blessing. And I hope you are all snuggling into autumn, as well, enjoying the color and light and promise of seasons that will continue until the Lord returns. Yes, the earth outside my window is sinking into slumber right now. I will await with it, hopeful, for the dawn of spring, resurrection.