Sometimes in early mid-November....

Sometimes in early mid-November I see leaves blowing through the blue-blue sky.  Stripping the brown limbs bare, they are piled in windrows, willy-nilly across the road and pasture.

Sometimes in early mid-November I see the buck with antlers swaying as he ambles across the field.  He is so proud and wanting to look good for all the does who linger just outside my sight, down there in the woods, dark and deep and full of shadows.

Sometimes in early mid-November I watch the eagle pair flying nearer to me and then suddenly turning, banking in mid-flight and soaring high above the river.  Sunlight glints off their white heads and tail feathers as they disappear from sight.

Sometimes in early mid-November on frosty moonless nights, I wait to count the stars as they appear from east to west.  The smudge that is the Seven Sisters appears on the upper horizon.  Cassiopeia in her chair nearby.  And stretching from northeast to southwest the immense ribbon of the Milky Way.

Sometimes in early mid-November I gather wood and kindling and make a roaring fire in my wood stove.  I pull my rocking chair near enough to feel the heat and sit and read in comfortable solitude.

Sometimes in early mid-November I am reminded that all things need a time of rest.  The earth is settling in for a long nap.  And we too can find a space to think and reflect on what the year has brought us.

Sometimes in early mid-November.