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“Sunrise, sunset…
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears.”

Snowfall in the trees

Snowfall in the trees

This song from “Fiddler on the Roof” came to mind as I’m looking out at a grey, drizzly afternoon.  Seasons change, cold winds blow, gardens now lie fallow.  We close the window on one season and focus on another.

Thanksgiving sometimes gets lost in the hoopla over shopping, decorating, and baking. Each year, the stores seem to open earlier and longer. However, at our house, we try to give Thanksgiving its full due—a 1:00 turkey dinner complete with all the traditional trimmings, often followed by board games in the afternoon.

I actually look forward to this time of year. There is a rare quiet in a December afternoon if I just listen, a quiet of the soul. The earth has pulled up a blanket over the sleeping soil, and if we allow ourselves, we too can share that peace.

I’ve often thought of handweaving, spinning, knitting as quiet meditation. We all need that. The rhythm of the wheel, the quiet thud of the beater help soothe our busy minds and remind us that quiet is good.

Of course, as I get older and our family spreads out, quiet is more common. It wasn’t always so. Seasons. Each one has its purpose, its gift.

May you find peace in your season, whatever it is.

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