No Frivolity This Fall

This week, I felt the prickle of frost on my face, and I thanked my intuition for pulling all vegetables from the garden before the cold killed the harvest. 

It’s shocking how a few hours of planting garlic bulbs in the cold and wind can make a person yearn for the warmth of a fire and good pillow to rest the eyes. 

In fall, the time of usual rest, I feel the almost constant presence of tired and the seeking of warmth. And yet, with our house continuing to move forward, I don’t allow myself much frivolity. 

Sand has now filled the cement frost walls, and I sit with bated breath, waiting for the plumber to place lines. My father, who will be assisting with building the frame of the house, is also feeling the cold creep into his bones, and nearly every day, I hear the pressure of still incomplete steps, preventing his progress. 

So, Dan and I shift plans, check measurements, email, call, email again…and at the end of the day, we sit across from each other with bowls of homemade soup warming our souls. We talk of soy bean rows and flowers arranged in concentric circles, of heating sources and the strange course of life in which we find ourselves here. My, how fast a year goes, and I think “how will I recall these times - this year, this month…this week?” So, I remind myself to write in order to remember.