Ordinarily the months from September to December are my favourites. This year, however, has seen some overwrought days and these my favourite months have been flitting by without much chance for stopping and smelling the . . . decomposing leaves . . . and pine cones. In an effort to cure this outbreak of stress and busy, I'm taking a day to enjoy the smell of pancakes sizzling, hot chocolate wafting through the air, the sounds of bare branches moving in sharply cold air (that particular creaking noise when tight against another branch). The anticipation of fat snowflakes (they have to happen sometime), thoughts of glittering, sparkly lights from streets decked out for the holidays.


I'm scheduling in some 'enjoy it' time.

To that end, this is going to be a poem post. I'm thinking maybe a little Elizabeth Barrett Browning . . . something from Aurora Leigh:

And truly, I reiterate, . . nothing's small!
No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And, --- glancing at my own thin, veined wrist, ---
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct. Earth's crammed with heaven
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who see, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more, from the first similitude.

And for those of you living to the south (i.e. the U.S.) . . . HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!