November Tempest

Dreary, rainy, chilly. Typical for November. But at least we are safe and snug in our homes here, while the thousands of people affected by the Hurricane in New York and New Jersey, as well as the other states, suffer through the tempest that has become their daily lives. Catastrophes from weather events continue to display the power of Nature over us humans despite the fact that Man is supposedly advanced in all arenas of intellect and technology. Nature will win. Our thoughts and prayers and energies go out to all who are suffering. And to the many rescuers and repairers as the damage and destruction of the hurricane is made right.

Halloween has come and gone. All that remains is one lonely pumpkin and some fallen leaves. The Wheel of the Year completed its circuit with Samhain. The end of one year. In December the first sabbat of the New Year is Yule, the Winter Solstice. For me, from Samhain to Yule is a "Time Between Time". A waiting time. Sort of a take a breath, say goodbye to the year just passed and get ready for the next sabbat and the start of all new things. Squirreling away things for a long, cold winter. Planning festivities for Thanksgiving at the end of November. Reading, baking, talking with family and friends. Reflecting on the past year, thinking about the good and bad, putting it behind me, though taking note of lessons learned and generating ideas for the New Year. No action taken at this time. Simply being in the present moment and waiting for what will come. Time between Time.

On the deck under the woodpile, somebunny is preparing for winter too. Fortunately somedoggies were not aware of this trespass.

Meanwhile, out the front window, kittens discover sparrows in the Japanese weeping cherry.

And Lexie keeps an eye on the kittens, making sure they don't shred the curtains or wreck the blinds.
All is well and quiet in our little world.

"I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colours are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and its content."|

-  Lin Yutang