“But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come
upon them." ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Windy Poplars
November is a funny time of year. It's that in-between, waiting time. Something has left, but the new thing has not arrived yet. Today is the feast day of St. Sylvia, the patron saint of pregnant women. Seems appropriate. I am thinking of Talara and of Avery, whose babies will arrive in the new year, expanding the love of families already filled to the brim with blessings and love. How is that possible? Pure magic and nothing less.
When my sister and I were young girls, I was terrified that the sea would carry her away. There are photos of me, wearing a life jacket, standing on the beach, holding on to her for dear life. The clinging didn't work; the ocean took her far and then farther away from me. But I am oh so very proud of my little mermaid. This is one of the coolest things I've read in a long time. White blood. Who knew? Go Doc!
Sam's compilation reel of this past year's work.
We are waiting for the whiteness.