"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show."
December has been hurrying along - unnecessarily quickly in my opinion. We watched the first snowstorm of the season cover our town with deep white drifts, and now we sit in the warm, blue-walled middle room, listening to the creak of the kiln as it rises to temperature. The days are so short now, I'm adjusting to lamplight and early nights.
I feel more productive this winter -after the distraction of autumn skies. My pots are everywhere - in the kiln, on the floor, on the wheel - and all across the country as well. I'm happy to see them go - these little bits of my soul - in the hopes that they brighten lives out in the world.
Advent is such a beautiful season - amazing that we are at it's third Sunday already! I think I have not appreciated it as much as I would like this year, but I'm sure that every year is the same. We never look back and say "Ah, that was the year I did everything right!"
My husband and I have been reading "The Book of Hours" this Advent, not intentionally, but because we were drawn to the beauty of the words this season. It is a wintery book of poems, I feel, and a book of hopeful longing.
Blessed Advent to you all!