The trees are bare as we continue our march towards Winter. The snowbirds are beginning to leave, and many people are outwardly complaining about the coming weather. I welcome this time of year with open arms. It is just another stop on the wider journey. The colors have faded away, the brown folded leaves of the oaks are the only that remain. The naked branches reach towards the pale sky in a lonely manner that has always captivated me. Everything is turning inward on itself, preparing for
the long winter ahead. The landscape seems to fade, yet it takes on a new stoic beauty.
We had fog earlier in the week. It was burning off as I drove to work, and I beheld an incredible landscape. The sun peaked through where it has burned off, hitting the rolling hills below. The landscape glowed, as patches of blue sky became evident above us. Our landscape in New England is old, yet incredible. Every corner of this region has new things to behold. It reminds me how lucky I am to live in such an incredible place. It influences me, and drives me to write. The landscape feeds my soul. The bare November landscape hold secrets all her own.
Now that life has settled down some, I look forward to more writing. My weeks have been so structured, that by the time I get around to writing, it is too late. I wait until my mind is lagging towards sleep, and that is never a great time to share ideas. I have felt guilty, yet knew that taking a break was important. Being secured in my job gives me the peace of mind to be able to write, and for that I am thankful. The last six months has been a new experience. At times it has been incredibly hard, yet I have arrived at a place where I feel better.
Bring on the Snow.