When I give thanks on the last Thursday of November,
I can't help but wonder what the first day of December will bring.
Will the frost lie thick in the pastures,
turning blades of grass to ice?
Or will the first snows fly,
and turn the farm to icy white?
For today I hoped for a sun that shines cold and brilliant,
a long walk on the trail with my camera,
and a fire in the woodstove to keep the house warm.
But this morning at six the rain was falling, and the
wind was howling through the cedars and swirling the fallen leaves.
Snow is predicted for the midnight hour; what will the morning bring?
I used to worry about waking up to snow,
but these days I'm easy with what nature offers.
Now the only commute in my morning routine is
the journey to the kitchen to start water for tea.