#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Red Maple Leaf

Truly, a November day. Thick, low sky. Moist air. Inches and inches of crackling brown leaves covering rocks and roots and sticks on the trail. My son asks if I want to go for a walk. He takes the special one on his back. Charlie’s last walk before some surgery tomorrow. My son has recently visited an herbalist and forager to learn about natural edibles that are growing on our property. As we walk, he points them out. We examine trees, name the pines. He tells me about teas that can made from them. He has the special one make contact with his hand on the tree trunks of massive and old white pines. I am delighted to be in the woods with these three “boys.” At home, I get a chance to revise my poem for tomorrow night and send it off. It’s a fun exercise; this one has not been a struggle at all. In the afternoon we all go to my niece’s house in a town nearby for a first visit of their new home. A lovely afternoon visit with my brother’s three children. Home in the rain, a chilled rain, falling heavily. I have a chill, can’t seem to get warm. We put the fire on, set the table, a nice dinner for the end of the holiday in the dining room by the fire.