Waning and Waxing

The year is waning, as is the amount of daylight in individual days; both will soon wax again. 

Meanwhile, here are some of the sights. Also sites (certainly familiar locations to anyone who follows me on social media). Also sighs, which is what I'd originally typed instead of sights. 

The evening sky

Because even after twenty years here, ten years in northern Colorado before that, and five years in the mountains of New Mexico before THAT, the first snowstorm--the first REAL one, the first that stays--still daunts me. 

But in the space of three or four days, we've now had two. And managed.

Here it comes

And I continue my ongoing "wayfinding" efforts. I'm looking for lampposts, bits of joy (also called "glimmers" I think). Recently, I had a great time volunteering with Dementia Cafe (and have the chance to next weekend as well). 

Yesterday I saw old bananas in the grocery store and got an urge to make banana bread. Maybe I resemble Simone more than I'd imagined.

My husband enjoys using the snowblower--not every single time, mind, but most times. I can relate. When I shovel the deck or the front porch, it remains shoveled. For a short time, anyway. 

The porch awaits

I wish I could say something meaningful and erudite here about visible progress and/or taking responsibility for chores. Maybe being out in the world as it exists regardless of how it exists. But I guess that specific erudition is different for each of us.

Meanwhile, the holiday lights are up and twinkling away, the laundry's chugging, the porch awaits my shovel, and banana bread is in my future. I've reviewed a couple of longer-term administrative and marketing tasks that are almost finished. I'm tentatively writing around something, and I'm editing a collection of short work of my husband's--a creative stretch for me.  

So far, those lampposts are lighting my way. I hope you find lampposts of your own.