I’ve been on a reunion tour this last week, visiting my old homes and haunts, catching up with friends and family and savoring November in New England in all its autumnal glory. Waking up to those cool, crispy mornings that smell of damp, wet earth and savoring those fleeting moments of afternoon warmth when the sun finally warms you up just enough to lose a scarf or a layer before sending you back inside to the fire or the TV or whatever warms your soul on those long chilly nights. There’s something magical about days like these. Maybe it’s just that these are the smells and the streets of my youth with a million memories wrapped up in the scents and sounds of the fall or maybe it’s just that winter is coming. And winter in itself is pure magic, the way it transforms brown, barren earth into bright, fresh fields of sparkly whiteness filling in all the nooks and crannies and begging you to shred it.
winter is here