This is a picture of the rear of Chatter Creek Cottage, all golden and red and looking like autumn. Autumn has finally arrived with a full curtain call of color, a splendid smile, having arisen from its slumber. For a while there I thought autumn was in hiding, too depressed about Donald Trump to spread its glorious arms and show off its magnificence. Of course our history is what it is in the making but autumn has said to hell with it. A big bag of wind cannot blow me away, cannot hide my beautiful soul behind intimidation and certainly cannot still my compassion with its incompetent rhetoric, its cruel policies and its weakness for ignorance.
Enough of that, autumn is here and because I have a longing for beauty I am awestruck. Happens every glorious fall. My year was an absolute mess but then autumn blasts forth in my world and I am overcome, stilled and accepting. I guess I should say – renewed. The long, horrendous year is ending with a bang and all the little frightening experiences no longer look as threatening. Like our Donald Trump, the roar was and is superficial.
Chatter Creek is back for fans of my writing and friends of my heart. It grows and transitions and stands firm.
