|
The last of the leaves finally let go this week, and my timelapse caught the moment beautifully. One frame at a time, the canopy opened until my woods became a quiet forest of bare branches. There is still so much beauty here. With the foliage gone, I can watch the deer as they wander across our property. They move slowly and blend into the winter palette in a way that still amazes me. During Thanksgiving we had family visiting from four different states. The air hovered in the low fifties, which felt chilly enough that no one seemed eager to linger outside. Still, I decided to start a fire. As soon as the wood began to crackle and the first hint of smoke drifted across the yard, everyone wandered out. The firepit became an easy gathering spot. Conversations unfolded about life, past stories, and hopes for the future. Many of our family members forged the same paths we had trailblazed this past year. We walked down toward the river, which was running strong after recent rains. We brought a few apples and crushed them at the big boulder we call Apple Rock. Deer visit it all the time and enjoy whatever treats we leave. Sharing that small ritual with family felt like introducing them to another layer of our woods. It reminded me that the heart of a home is usually the kitchen. That afternoon though, the fire and the land around it became our center. Until the sun slipped below the trees, the backyard held our family together. The warmth, the stories, and the simple act of gathering outdoors showed me again why we call ourselves family. Moments like that feel like the real gifts of the season.
|
