Winter is determined to overtake us. Giant wet snowflakes drop heavy on exposed skin, stick on tree branches, and transform autumn into a cold, white wilderness. The fire inside the wood stove glows warm and beckoning... kind of like the coffee pot.
A week ago my friend Deb and I walked the cemetery in sweaters and had a picnic... We basked in the sunshine, soaked up autumn's warmth, and determined to absorb the season's final feast. We ambled aimlessly, took tons of pictures, and were grateful for the opportunity to be out. On our way home I took a detour to a favorite all-but-forgotten little cemetery tucked away in a corner. I'd gone to find the gravestones of my great grandparents, but a makeshift homeless shelter, accessible through a hole in the fence, found me slightly uncomfortable and self conscious traipsing about the headstones, as though we were the ones treading on sacred ground. The caretaker, who happened to be there cleaning up leaves, had a record book in his truck and helped me find the stones I was looking for, right by the hole in the fence, of course. As we talked with him a face appeared around the side of the tarp shelter and then ducked back again. I desperately wanted to take a picture, and at the same time felt like it would be an intrusion on their privacy.
do fun things together. (I'm betting Hannah took this one since it's not a selfie like most of them.) I love the woods, especially the Birdsong Trail at Mendon Ponds. I keep meaning to get there, but it keeps not happening. Maybe one day, when the snow is deep and the wind not too blustery, I'll take a winter walk.