Here I Am Again

I have been caught in a whirlwind of action and sleep. The leaves are turning, and going into the autumn I feel minute wheels synching together in my life, people entering who I had forgotten about, a greater sense of discernment of what I do. Last weekend I went up north to celebrate the harvest. There was darkness that was present, as darkness comes longer and longer now. But for me it was worth it, to get to the core. To the root. Root woman.

Sitting here, I dream of olden days and beeswax candle, rafters of dried herbs, attics, empty stalks, pumpkins orange, yellow flower buds and milkweed pods opening their cotton. Working in a library, I regularly bring home book upon book. I have loved historical fiction for years, but am only now realizing and appreciating what reading historical fiction has given my life. I have learned about history, separate books are beginning to intersect by event and historical period. I am linking it together.

I have been weaving onto a children's lap loom for about a year now, but it is still at the beginning stages. Now that the colder weather is coming, I am getting the inclination to bring out the weaving. Also to knit and gather neatly folded piles of blankets into every room. The winter hurts my bones, but I look forward to it like nothing else. Fire and hot water and wool and warmth. Here I am again, coming back into myself, the seasons have gone round and round.