As I look out the kitchen window while the coffee grinds, it looks like the trees have stepped a4058093300way from each other, opened a path for my eyes to follow, like a crowd parting for a dignitary to take the stage.

Autumn descended full force here on the farm while we were away.

Now, there is room to see further – the roof of the neighbor’s metal barn, the path to lodge, the pasture slowly edging back to soft brown.

Perhaps this is why I find fall the best season for my writing. The need to mow lessens, the day shortens, and I am given more open vision.

I don’t have a lot to say today – the fatigue of travel and the welcomeness of home with the man I love sleeping upstairs in our bed leaves me full. And full is a harder place for me to write from.

But I see it – the paths between the leaves, the branches of rough-hewn words ready and waiting, where I will breathe them out like the breath of an autumn fire.


Online writing workshops begin next Monday.  As a reader of my blog, you are entitled to a 20% discount on any class of your choice.  Just email me to register and mention that you read this post.