Finding Home

The leaves fall into my hands.

Today, October 1, marks a shift in my life. As I write, I’m listening to Al Petteway’s Caledon Wood, a CD I only listen to from the first of October through December 31st. The music is acoustic guitar, slightly mystical, and very earthy. The leaves in our huge birch out front are showering down–I actually stood under them and they stuck to my coat and fell into my hands. Fall in Vermont. There are some books that I read only during this time as well. Rosamunde Pilcher’s Winter Solstice comes to mind, and Bill McKibben’s Hundred Dollar Holiday. As it gets closer to Christmas, my stacks of books and CDs expand. I like this ritual. It’s a reflective time, and it prepares me for the cold.

I’m traveling to Maine soon. I must see the ocean one last time before it snows. If I’m lucky, I’ll walk the beach when the horses are out galloping. That’s a sight to see: large brown horses churning up sand as they run, tails flying in the coastal breezes. My eyes have seen wonders, and I’m grateful.

I leave you with one of my new favorite blog links–there’s a photo of the type of house I want to retire in.

My husband thinks we won’t have enough room, but the one pictured holds a family of four and pets. Besides, he won’t be so tall in fifteen years.

Have a good weekend,



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Finding Home

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