"A blog is to a writer what a canvas is to an artist." ~ Colleen Redman

Gray Day

fogwk

A fog has rolled in and settled.  A lone pumpkin, pecked by the chickens, is the only color in my view.  The lack of birdsong is eerie.  Occasionally a lamenting hen, who has all but given up laying, will disrupt the overcast hush.  A distant gunshot means meat in someone’s freezer. The ring of wind chimes guides me to the present moment and, like a buoy, makes me feel like a sailor at sea.  The leaves are all brown now and have floated to the surface. Mostly oak, they look like fallen stars.

I notice that the lawn chair cushion I’m sitting on is damp and has slowly soaked into my sweat pants.  Inside, the house is warm, lit by artificial light. The faucet is dripping. Leftover spaghetti, made with frozen garden tomatoes and the last of the venison Joe hunted last year, sizzles in the skillet.  The scent coming from the steamer tells me the scavenged turnip greens are tender.  I’m thankful for how hearty they are.

It’s not too early to eat the marzipan stollen that we bought this week for the holidays. It goes so well with a pot of caramel puer tea.  Maybe a piece of mint chocolate to top it all off will help to brighten a gray day.

__________Our World Tuesday

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