Here is a photo Lori took a few days ago of the sky and tree line as seen from our hill, and a poem to mark the change of seasons, sent as a gift by our friend Karen in Tennessee. May you have blessings aplenty in this Advent of expectation.
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From “Frost at Midnight”
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.