I step out in the morning dark to get kindling from the barn. I’m grateful for many things, but a hot hearth is high on my gratitude list. The sprawling cats concur.
In the night, snow has fallen, a cold wind blows, and winter has spread out her garments. She’s here to stay.
At Thanksgiving, my daughters asked why I didn’t stay in the Pacific Northwest, where I went to graduate school. One reason was that I missed the drama of New England’s seasons. On this late November morning, I remind myself of this love for Vermont, that the need for winter’s stillness and beauty is driven as deeply into my body and soul as May’s blue squill around my house.
Here’s a link to a radio show at WDEV in Waterbury, Vermont, I did with my former US Attorney Christina Nolan, who appears in Unstitched — a woman I greatly admire.
And, a few lines from poet Adelaide Crapsey:
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
4 thoughts on “Bits of Colored Glass.”
What a perfect poem. So evocative of an attentional moment.
I listened to your book on opioid addiction and learned a lot. Thank you for your writing.
I really appreciate that you read my book and took the time to write in. Many, many thanks!
Your words and photos conjure the change of the seasons perfectly.