The trees are mostly bare now. Against the sky, the architecture of trees stands exposed and elegant. The end of November nears. Rainless days means chilly temperatures and frost-nipped nights. On the other hand, rain brings somewhat warmer temperatures but a damp that drives deep into the bones. Since we can't control the weather, we'll take what comes and find the pleasure in each day's gift.
Just one month until Christmas. The season of Advent, of anticipation, is nearly upon us. Lists and plans form in my head. But before the busyness, before the rush of activity to decorate our home, bake cookies, stitch gifts, and accomplish the myriad of tasks that take up December, I want to take time to prepare my heart. On this quiet November eve (quiet after a weekend of guests and celebration), I think about the season ahead and what I want it to look like.
What is the spare architecture of my heart that will stand against the sky of time when all the delightful sparkles of Christmas are taken away? What will remain solid throughout the season of celebration? I pause and reflect.
Linking to Mosaic Monday, hosted by Mary of the Little Red House.