"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

'tis the season......



I am so looking forward to winter. Even though it is already cold here it is not quite winter, and notwithstanding the season’s pending arrival, or in spite of it, a crisp chill is visiting. It hitched a ride on the scent of ocean salt, and spread itself across the sky within the echoing honks of sea gulls.

How jealous I am of the Pine trees that shimmer within the mystical aura of November’s exit dance, slowly and reluctantly making a pathway for December‘s white winter days ahead.

We will make a welcome for you, sweet December, in an overstuffed chair near the hearth of burning embers.



Photographic credit:
Winter in Oregon by Alden Swan
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