Fall calling.

I can smell it, taste it, feel it begin to swim in my blood.

Green turns to brown.

Leaves crinkle and pale to golden.

And brown to black.

The amber scent of heat on dry dirt becomes the damp aroma of cool dark earth.

Perennial sacrifice of the dying to ensure life‘s continuation.

Transforming.

From still-living to life-giving.

From fresh to dried; to frozen; to cooked and jarred.

Today’s abundance becoming tomorrow’s assurance.

The urge to wander replaced by a need to nest.

Cleansing, blessing, repairing, dismantling. Storing away for another time.

Quilts aired on lines, freshened by a late breeze; preparing for cool nights.

Fall calling.

~Willow Winterborne