despite the dire forecasts - i swear the predictions are getting higher by the hour - i went out and cleaned my front window this morning. as the willows danced in the gusts, and cold nipped at my fingers and ears, i dusted and sprayed and scrubbed and swept last year's dirt away.
it seemed to me a fitting ritual for this time of year, a literal releasing of things that have shriveled and died, so that the light of the newborn sun may better illuminate the space inside the house. i put away the last of the summer decorations, uncovering the pine cones that lay covered in the flowerbox. i replaced them with a fresh layer that jake and i gathered a few weeks ago. the scent of pine still clings to my fingertips. i sprinkled salt across the ledges, across the threshold of the door.
the window, like my world, feels cleaner, fresher, barer, a blank slate ready to be written upon. despite the sound and fury of a culture that would tell me this is the season to spend, spend, spend, the brisk air and soft gray sky whispers to me that this is the season to shed, to release, and to dream.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.