{October 25, 2013}   Fall is Here


Fall has arrived here in the White Mountains, bringing with it the usual beautiful hues and sleet/snow. It came in quick, too. It’s currently 34.5 degrees outside and they’re predicting a heavy frost overnight tonight. I personally don’t like the cold weather. I relish the 80-90 degree summer temperatures. I guess considering my previous statement you must think I’m crazy to be living in the heart of ski country. I suppose I am, a little anyway.

There are a few things that I enjoy about the colder weather: cuddling up in front of the fireplace with a good book and my kitty, homemade Tomato Bisque, Hot Cocoa and the warm, fuzzy feeling I get when watching the snow fall from inside my warm, cozy living room. Of course work really picks up for me in the winter so I stay busy too, between chimney fires and motor vehicle accidents.

This evening I keep turning on the outside light to see the snow flurries drift silently to the ground. It amazes me how such a silent event can change so much in so little time.


{October 10, 2012}   *~Autumn~*

Cigarette smoke rises
into the air,
my coffee has
grown cold. I’ve
been sitting on
this stone wall
for too long,
but for not
time at all.
The autumn leaves
fall all around
me, burying my
shoes and whispering
in the cold
air. Their rustling
tells me that
soon snow will
be falling and
all the branches
will be bare.
It seems a
death of sorts,
some kind of
sentence, a punishment.
You’ve enjoyed the
sun playing on
your fine hair
and your tanned
shoulders, for every
joy there must
be a penalty.

I begin to
walk, kicking leaves
as I carve
myself a path.
Pumpkins are sitting
on doorsteps and
window ledges, carved
into faces, animals
and words. Soon
children will be
donning costumes and
going door-to-
door, saying those
magic words that
will get them
treats. Parents and
Grandparents will ooh
and ahh, complimenting
each other’s cute
offspring. Halloween.
I shiver at
the thought of
a clown showing
up at my door.
I make a
right and head
down my street.
The evening is
desolate, except for
my thoughts and
me. A small
flame from a
match lights me
another cigarette and
this time the
smoke mixes with
that of chimneys.
I exhale a
plume and it
blends with the
steam of my
breath. A light
rain begins to
fall, sprinkling the
colorful leaves with
a layer of

As I
enter my house
I am greeted
by the warmth
from the woodstove,
the smell of
Apple-Cinnamon potpourri.
I switch off
the lights, wrap
a blanket around
myself and settle
in front of
the fire, watching
the flames as
they dance for
me, casting an
amber glow on
the walls, the
crackling a lullaby
for me to

et cetera