Not knowing makes pretending so much easier. In the fall it s almost impossible to write about anything but trees. I know they are the same ones whose green went straight to my lungs in the spring, yet in October they are new again, a rush of red, orange, and yellow. I know they ll be bare soon, and my eyes ache from being so wide open. Knowing what follows the trees disrobing makes me wish even more that I could keep these colored days.
Winter brings wind with a voice and fingers that reach through windows.
We have an ample supply of blankets and no longer scoff at those who say you should wear a hat in winter because you lose most of your body heat through your head. We wear hats inside. We cannot see any blacktop, and the only glint bounces off water and sparkling stones. Not a department or grocery store in sight. For me this is a good thing.