Tonight we hiked apiece through the woods to the place where the colors pass to pine. The days are shorter now and, with more urgency I was craving the last few moments of daylight uninterrupted by conversation; like a hungry lover dreading the end of an embrace before a lingering absence. I sat amidst the pinecones and drifting oak leaves and invited the sun to have its way with me one more time. When I am content in this way I am bewitching. I am grateful this image was captured; this hidden side of me.
This is the time of year when things get heavy. Money is short. Work is chaotic. Layers are necessary; in clothing, blankets and politics. Abundance feels fleeting as we are reduced to apples and oranges at the market. It’s as if the color balance on life is dialed down to sepia through Christmas; and black and white until April. Even the trees are too tired to hold their color. Within the window of a day or two the vibrant hues of orange, yellow and red dull to rust, amber, and russet. An unmistakable shift as the starlings form their murmurations and the geese their Vs. Their prattle is less and the wind begins to bite. Even the plump squirrels have stopped their forage in favor of shelter. This is also the time of year that I go inward and contemplate: choices, actions, desires. I talk less, and I think and write more.
This year has been arduous and growth-provoking in ways I never would have imagined. I savor the latter which would not be possible but for the former ~ and so I contemplate some more.
I am gathering an inner calm that I have never experienced before and a courageousness that, after the winter, will allow me to splash color into the world again….crimson, moonstone, indigo, persimmon, bittersweet, coquelicot, maize, Persian blue, razzmatazz, rhythm, coral, robin’s egg blue and a few that have never been seen before.
While I, too, am a bit too tired to hold my colors for all of you to see right now, I am already painting by candlelight ~ thoughts, stories, art ~ until the days get long again.