Oranor, Narbeleth, Neder

I can't believe I did it. Well of course I believe it but, drat. I finished the heel of the Old Shale second sock. Then I discovered I had skipped 15 rows. I debated leaving it as-is for a minute. I sighed very loudly. Sighing doesn't make the mistake go away. I tried a few more times but, no. Still badly mistaken. mistook? One more sigh for effect. Then frog. This frog does not taste like chicken. Buzzard ? Maybe. So here I am reknitting the 15 missing rows and preparing to start the heel again. It could have been worse.

Today is so beautiful. The leaves are scattering thickly on the lawns and roads. The steps crunch as we walk on them. I love the gold flecked sunlight and the sounds and smells of Fall. Too soon it will rain again and this magic will have passed. Then it will be awaiting time. Awaiting the first snowfall, the snow-frosted trees, the rabbit tracks revealing their hiding places. Deer nibbling the branches. Each season has its magic. I love how each season has its own quality of silence. And how the smells reveal its heart. Winter, wood smoke; Spring, rain and wet earth; Summer, charcoal fires and hot tar, Autumn, Leaf mold and leaf smoke. Sight, sound, smell, touch, taste. Isn't it fantastical, mysterious, awesome. We get to experience so much by just awakening each day. Deep slow breath. Life.

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