the quiet after

11.01.2021


It's Monday.  A new month.  Welcome, November.  The sky is gray, a bit dark, and rain is falling.  I've been doing laundry and trying to finish my book, Late Migrations by Margaret Renkl.  I think I'll take a walk in the rain later, after the boy comes home from school - maybe I can convince him to come with me.  The day feels slow and soft after the whirlwind of yesterday's Halloween / Samhain activities.  

It was such a perfect day, starting with the three of us having coffee downtown, reminiscing over Halloweens past, pulling up photos of little T in his costumes.  Four Halloweens have gone by when he hasn't wanted to dress up or trick or treat, but this year he did.  I have to admit, I was overjoyed.  My favorite day of the year and I got to go out with him like the old days, carrying my lantern through the streets of this neighborhood I love, and my heart just about burst.  Early evening, we had a lovely candlelight dinner in the dining hall.  I made this pumpkin/apple/acorn squash curry.  We set a place for loved ones no longer with us, and candles burned on the ancestor altar nearby, which held photographs, items belonging to and made by ancestors, and the flowered box that holds my beloved Klaus's ashes.  Later, after trick or treating, I returned to the dining hall and left some soul cakes on the altar.  The candles were still flickering and I spent some time looking at the faces in the photographs, remembering each of them and the times we shared, until the candles all went out.  My husband built a fire and we talked while waiting for the last of the kids to come to our door.   I went to bed with a very happy heart.  

With all the rain we've been getting, the grass is lush and green again, the earth soaked and soft, and the ferns look like they hold a little more magic than usual.  (Speaking of ferns, I've found my dream mittensWould someone please knit these for me?  Just kidding.  Sort of.  Really wishing I'd gotten past the dishcloth stage of knitting.)  We're still seeing hummingbirds in the back yard, often, usually around the old apple tree.   Skinny (the squirrel that seems to live at our house) is always about, either on our front porch or leaping from branch to branch out back.  The scrub jays and the crows have frequent squabbles, the jays in the maple, the crows in the willow, each with very impressive vocalizations (but the crows forever have my heart).   

slow notes:  

I've long wanted to learn to quilt, but lately I've been more drawn than ever to this slow craft.  I'd love to someday be able to make a quilt of my own design.  My dad's mother was a quilter who made quilts for all of her eleven children, and then for their children, and so on.  I love having that connection to her and her time (personal time, as well as her era), knowing that her hands created it.  I think quilting is going on my to-learn list for 2022.  Online inspiration:  Grace Rother QuiltsPublic Library Quilts, Farm & Folk,  Salt + Still.

When I drove T to school this morning, Norwegian Soloists' Choir was singing Jesus Din Sote Forening A Smake on All Classical Portland and it was so beautiful, it melted into me.    When I got home I looked them up and listened to the other songs on the album, and they are all amazing.   I absolutely love this kind of choral music.

I don't have much else to say today.  I'm feeling quiet, and grateful for this season, the magic of the natural world, and my family.  I hope you are feeling some gifts of the season, too.  Until next time ~


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by mlekoshi