the blue muse

November is going to be a whirlwind of a month. Two three-day shows, followed by Thanksgiving. I spent the past two evenings reading. All evening. Knowing that it will be awhile before I come up for air, giving myself that little gift before I get caught up in the craziness.

Birds are flitting about in the garden just now, cardinals and chickadees scavenging seed from dead flowerheads, busy, busy preparing for the winter. There are still, still, a few hardy plants blossoming. The ones that don’t give up easily. The ones that know Tolkien was right when he said that deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Winter whispers in the ear of Mother Nature, and she can’t help but blush, just a little.

I watch the sunrise from my studio window. The trees are mostly bare, but there is still color just outside my door. A golden morning that promises blue skies and autumn’s last hurrah.

It all feels so simple. So quiet. So lovely.

And so it is.