07 October 2013

present in the weather

While I find myself missing the warm sunshine when it leaves Georgia, I cannot help but fall in love with fall every year.  The first smell of wood smoke, the chilled breeze on your face, the smell of local apples.  

Inspired by Dorothy Wordsworth's journals, I have recently been endeavoring to write about the everyday context in which I find myself, whether it be social or natural.  Lately it has been natural as I walk to classes through a lovely patch of woods.  I also find myself standing ten minutes at a time by the side of the highway waiting to be picked up by my ride to church.  What a delight it often is to stand, forced to be still and feel the weather.

With the change in season, the air has been crisp and the sky clear. It's the sort of cool where your fingers feel it but your forehead doesn't...where you wear a sun dress and high boots with socks. The wind plays with my fringe and the lace hem of my skirt but doesn't yet have the biting grit of winter in it. It feels like the Highland Games and cold noses...like picnics under hay bales and bread with cheese.

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