Low angled amber sunlight, long shadows, black skeletons of trees now visible as last summer’s dead leaves whirl away on the wind. Flocks of geese flying in formation.
Shafts of sunlight reach further and further into the house, striking a chord of memory from past winters…
Seeking out and momentarily lighting up hidden corners and far reaches. Illuminating interior hallways…
Inviting for a moment that which is hidden and dark to receive the light, to shine and glow in the clear and rare blessing of the winter solstice:
Ask Grandmother Cottonwood 