It is the day before thanksgiving. For too many years, this was a time of great sorrowing – a day on which a young motherless woman said goodbye to her grandmother… a grandmother she couldn’t afford to lose, and later, much later, a grandmother she couldn’t become….
This morning I awaken in the pre- dawn to a heavy lidded moon peering in my window… A deep stillness permeates the air – The Earth is a Lady in Waiting. The slow awakening of a late November sun decides it will take two hours to rise, and it is in this space that I give thanks for my favorite time of day. I bathe in the pale blue twilight; clarity heightens clear thinking, while my body opens to shinings. Cardinals arrive, flashing dusky crimson feathers… Around nine a golden eye overcomes night shadows and the house is lit like the brightest candle, the brook mirroring Earth Star’s rising. Chimes begin to ring. My Norfolk pines breathe out life giving oxygen as do the Passionflowers, their vining tendrils curling in spirals, emerald ringlets inching across the window. My dogs lie on their backs, paws extended, soaking in the sun… I spray my woodland garden with water, moistening its startling red partridgeberries, snowberries, emerald mosses, tiny trees celebrating life.
Winter Green is made of Gold.
Today or tomorrow I will weave my balsam wreaths into circles of prayer giving thanks for trees, for animals, for life, for winter light, for those capable of love, and for the heat that warms the fire within, animating me like my Star Baby does…
I see a circle closing as Grandmother glides through the door.
Oh, like the Navajo, I walk in Beauty.
This House was built for Winter Light.