The weather has been turning.
After weeks of gentle sunshine, autumn shook itself into winter with winds and rain.
Suddenly the trees are bare, silhouette gorgeous, and reminding me again how much I love the aesthetics of winter, if not the absence of light.
Yesterday we had a first scattering of snow, and the leaves and late flowers were touched at the edges with frost.
Out in the world, it’s hard not to feel like we’re in a winter season. Things can seem very dark.
It’s hard for any of us to make any sense of it. I don’t think there’s sense to be made of it.
It often feels discordant to keep focusing on beauty, on the soft loveliness of the world in the face of such harshness, such darkness, but also wrong to stop, and an affirmation of something important to keep saying otherwise.