Goodnight friends! The season’s first sharp frost, a fitting start to November. Even later on in the morning when I got out there were still scattered patches of tarnished silver in the shade, and all the dew on the rose-of-sharon was pinhead-fine, as rain dew scarcely ever is. Passing caresses of pale warmth from the pale, glaring sun that turned the swollen muddy streams to cascades of honey in its brightness. Sparrows squabbling in the coiled purple mazes of bare brambles, gulls keening above the reservoir.
The cold is tiring, not quite so painful as damp but more like I’ve sprung an additional slow leak of stamina. Maybe slightly better attuned to an earlier start today, hoping to be able to continue starting before noon for a bit.
May we find a relaxed and peaceful acceptance of change coming into our lives, and a preparedness to grow!
