Up here, in upstate New York, it is the time of the Change, as the farmers say, when the nights suddenly turn cold, there is not enough grass for the animals, and the color and light begin to melt away. Our beautiful garden has turned barren, the mornings are grey, the sun appears, a tease, and then disappears behind clouds of gray. This is November weather. I love each season, and for a different reason. Autumn is so beautiful here, it is the writer’s time, when I get so much work done, feel cozy in my office, wood stoves burning, dogs spread out, Maria in her studio.

The flowers have almost all died, soon the leaves will be raked. Different, different.

But I am a warrior for light, and this season is a challenge for me, I feel it in my heart, my spirit, my bones.  It is time for me to make my own color, my own light, inside and out. To sing my song in color, to bring color and light to my words, my poems, my books and photos, my blog. Light is not just a matter of seasons, but a thing of the heart and the spirit. I love to photograph the colorless winter pasture, there is a wonderful beauty to it.

Beauty is everywhere if you look for it, it surrounds me if I can only see it. Every year I learn to look for beauty in places where I have never seen it before, and this year will be no different. I began looking today.