The stag bells. Winter snows.
The sky is the soft gray that silently heralds an impending storm. The bulk of yesterday morning’s snow has melted, but will be renewed by the tide of white. Images: Snow encasing blood-red maples leaves, Grian’s bright face liquefying the white, rainbows caught in the dripping snow-melt.
It’s frustrating in some measure, because the snow has stymied today’s travel plans and continued work on our geothermal system. But that is par for the course come Samhain; the name means “summer’s end” and, indeed, it is. The Celts had two seasons: winter and summer, when the cows come home and when the cows head out to pasture. We’ve been called back from the pastureland, now. The snow brings us back to the homestead.