Wednesday, November 3, 2010

In Relation to Place: Samhain, the New Year

I've become a bit addicted to capturing the change of foliage in my dear window-tree.

Readying for Halloween with my boy, 10/21

Perhaps, because of our circumstances these past few years, I'm a bit on edge with change, hoping to keep one step ahead of its mayhem, all the while extra-aware of its odd beauty.

Striking gold at last, 10/27

Or maybe this is an old obsession of mine flaring up again as I determine to not miss one single moment of fleeting gorgeousness; for such beauty is like air in the lungs, and how could I pass on such an opportunity for constant inspiration?

From gold to umber overnight, 10/28

Or maybe it is just a hope to capture joy itself, as I experience my first New England autumn.

After Samhain, the cold of the new winter takes the tree, 11/2

The light changes as quickly as the flame in the tree, or so it seems. Night comes much earlier in our little valley of houses, and chill.

Letting go at long last, 11/3

So it was this morning that the tree gave her first golden carpet of leaves upon the ground. Not long now before barren branches trace the sky... I caught my breath, and whispered both delight and trepidation in echo of my beloved tree.


Judith said...

I think that the Gods of Place are very local, so I wholeheartedly support connection with the immediate. I also think that it takes a few years of ritual contact with a tree to attract ze's attention.

So fixing your attention on the one tree's changes is (if it's the right term) a kind of mindfulness, neh?

Barry said...

What a beautiful friend, aglow in its singularity!