(November herbs from the garden...November!)
(November peppers and eggplant...November!)
(Smirking at Prince Bertram the Bad.)
(Racing John off to work in the first snow of the season, winter's gentle greeting in late-October .)
Four months scramble into a crooked line behind me, a disorderly row fit for a disorderly girl, and the full season of Advent stretches out before, the first gleam of a new beginning. Darkness waits for Light, and silence longs for Song. The Word is flesh, yet the earth groans still, so we wait for Him to shatter all that binds us.
And there's a lot that binds us.
The seasonal work of summer and fall is complete until next year, and the work of winter is barely begun. It's about time I procrastinated and unloaded a dumptruck of snapshots.
Hullo again and have at 'em.