Wild Geese

The wild geese flew over my head this morning, their honking stirring that need in me that longs for the wild places. I stood in the yellow field and watched them go, my heart lifting with the beating of their wings.

I can feel fall closing in. The breeze off the canal last night had that fresh scent with a tinge of wildness, that tells of rain and snow-kissed winter air on the way.

I am ready for the season to change. I love them all, each having its own pleasures. But perhaps I love fall best, with its oranges and yellows, its jack-o-lanterns grinning along the side of the road, the hint of wood-smoke in the air as people try to warm their chilly houses.

I pile the books up high - the ones I'll read all winter while the wind howls through the trees, and rain batters the windows. I'll look up, bemused, watch the weather cavorting through the treetops out my window, then plunge back deep into the page. I journey far, without ever leaving my comfy purple bed.

The days are shortening, easing us towards winter darkness, taking back the daylight that I miss so much through the long gray Alberni winters.

Yet I'm ready for it, too, with its cozy indoor rhythms, and the serene passage of slow and quiet days. Safe and warm in my little house, I'll watch another winter pass, moving ever towards the promise and possibilities of next spring.