I’m blowing on my fingers as I type.

The air isn’t cold, exactly, but chill… it’s fall at last. But are we ready? I can see places where winter firewood ought to be, see tasks that want doing awaiting me at every corner of this wild, little homestead.


Autumn. Shorter days, longer darkness. So many little necessities piled against each other in the quickly passing days.

But we are ready for it. On these cool days the cookstove makes the house merry – woodsmoke and coffee scent the air. We have knit caps and new boots, scarves to wrap and wrap around our necks and leaves to crunch underfoot. We have autumn greens planted where in summer we grew broccoli.

Ember Days are coming. Day’s that make me think of bonfires and bits of ash blowing up to heaven. Days of fasting more, praying more, and looking forward more and more fervently to eternity.

I love the autumnal saints: Francis, Paraskeva, Andrew of the dying year.. they’re so full of anticipatory joy – joy mixed with sorrow and loneliness. Like solitary crows hopping through red leaves, calling on us to have hope for a new tomorrow: tomorrow, when the newborn Christ appears bringing the sun in His hands, tomorrow – warmth, spring, renewal, resurrection.


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