It’s currently larch season here in the northeast corner of Vermont, but global warming has kept it mostly above 50 degrees which has helped the very fluorescent sumac stick around way longer than normal. They are usually the first to go, leaves turning black or shed by first frost. It’s making for a unique season which just adds an extra layer to my Halloween excitement.
Your writing, especially when you describe your surroundings, is so vibrant and reverant, I feel like I'm there, and I'm at church. I get so happy every time I see a new post from you. This time, I especially love this: "I’m trying to absorb this feeling as I do the smell of creosote when I am in Arizona." Oh, this makes me homesick (in a good way)! I love the desert, and I miss it so much. What I miss the absolute most is the creosote-infused petrichor after a good rain. And then there's the dog barf. I don't live with any dogs, but one of my kitty friends has a delicate tummy, and frequently barfs up her breakfast. She has taught me to feel fondly about barf. It is a labor of love for me to clean up after her. I can't even begin to explain how it touches my soul that you included that detail in your description.
A sweet love note to a kind of weather I'm only now, at age 70, beginning to appreciate. I lived in a fog belt on the California coast (Pacific Grove & Carmel) for several years in my early 20s, and had held onto a continuum of weather judgement that stretched from "sunny summer day" at one end to a grab bag collection of "bad weather" at the other -- and, since coastal California has very little in the way of dramatic weather events -- persistent low overcast was definitely in the bag. I had convinced myself that all it took to suck all life from my soul was a few days of gray, dreary weather.
Now I've moved back to the coast. When I did so, I made a conscious decision to release my long-held judgement about gray weather, to look for aspects I could appreciate and lean into. Naturally, they were there to be found. On gray days the constant hum of the small city I call home is dampened to a cottony softness, lowered in pitch, comforting rather than annoying. I can feel the silent energy of the redwood trees and other such beings as they absorb the air's moisture, patiently awaiting the return of the sunshine. They would no doubt find it ludicrous to value one above the other -- and, increasingly, so do I.
Thank you so much for your writing, and, of course, your music.
I am enjoying the vastness of the Pacific after living in Arizona for most of my life. The only thing I miss besides the crazy thunderstorms is the smell of creosote! The weird sweetness of it...
The "70s classroom decorations" really got to me. Hallowe'en was always my favourite time of the year when everyone came to school in their costumes. In 1977, age 8, I came to school as Darth Vader and scared some of my classmates. It was a good kind of scared, a *seasonal* scared. It was a wonderful. Happy Hallowe'en and good health and happiness to you.
Go to town as a classic ghost- old sheet with holes for eyes and maybe holes in side for arms. Bring the big candy bars if you want to be legend.
Your writing, especially when you describe your surroundings, is so vibrant and reverant, I feel like I'm there, and I'm at church. I get so happy every time I see a new post from you. This time, I especially love this: "I’m trying to absorb this feeling as I do the smell of creosote when I am in Arizona." Oh, this makes me homesick (in a good way)! I love the desert, and I miss it so much. What I miss the absolute most is the creosote-infused petrichor after a good rain. And then there's the dog barf. I don't live with any dogs, but one of my kitty friends has a delicate tummy, and frequently barfs up her breakfast. She has taught me to feel fondly about barf. It is a labor of love for me to clean up after her. I can't even begin to explain how it touches my soul that you included that detail in your description.
A sweet love note to a kind of weather I'm only now, at age 70, beginning to appreciate. I lived in a fog belt on the California coast (Pacific Grove & Carmel) for several years in my early 20s, and had held onto a continuum of weather judgement that stretched from "sunny summer day" at one end to a grab bag collection of "bad weather" at the other -- and, since coastal California has very little in the way of dramatic weather events -- persistent low overcast was definitely in the bag. I had convinced myself that all it took to suck all life from my soul was a few days of gray, dreary weather.
Now I've moved back to the coast. When I did so, I made a conscious decision to release my long-held judgement about gray weather, to look for aspects I could appreciate and lean into. Naturally, they were there to be found. On gray days the constant hum of the small city I call home is dampened to a cottony softness, lowered in pitch, comforting rather than annoying. I can feel the silent energy of the redwood trees and other such beings as they absorb the air's moisture, patiently awaiting the return of the sunshine. They would no doubt find it ludicrous to value one above the other -- and, increasingly, so do I.
Thank you so much for your writing, and, of course, your music.
hearing your descriptions of nature in your voice, in my mind’s ear, is always so comforting. 🍂
mmmm i love this <3 exactly how i feel about this season. “I have always found low ceiling comforting.” yes yes xo
I am enjoying the vastness of the Pacific after living in Arizona for most of my life. The only thing I miss besides the crazy thunderstorms is the smell of creosote! The weird sweetness of it...
Have you considered Pippi Longstocking?
I love how the grey sky makes the fall colors "jump out" :-)
Love this
Creosote 🧡
I hate winter but I do love larches and low lying cloud.
I’m jealous of the warm weather--it’s 26 and snowing in Big Sky! Consider going as a dope and powerful witch.
The "70s classroom decorations" really got to me. Hallowe'en was always my favourite time of the year when everyone came to school in their costumes. In 1977, age 8, I came to school as Darth Vader and scared some of my classmates. It was a good kind of scared, a *seasonal* scared. It was a wonderful. Happy Hallowe'en and good health and happiness to you.
Happy Halloween, NC!
Go as Sturgill the Sturgeon! You’ll prolly need a couple other participants….
Cat ears with painted on whiskers and a cat print coat are an easy assemblage from the Tickle Trunk. There might be a tail in there somewhere. ;-)
Katrina from the Mexican Day Of The Dead