1021. Life is a series of little deaths out of which life always returns. ~Charles Feidelson, Jr. 

by

12

There is something frank
and joyous and young
in the open face 
of the country.
It gives itself ungrudgingly
to the moods of the season,
holding nothing back.
~Willa Cather

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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It’s only two days until the end of the year. The train carrying all of this year’s comings and goings has all but run out of track, and it has been almost 10 days since we entered the season of somber gardens, short, but lengthening days, decidedly lower temperatures, and more-gray-than-blue skies. The reckless abandon of the growing seasons has yielded to winter’s, seemingly unadventurous restraint, and the countryside has been at least somewhat ravaged. The bare bones of the landscape now stand like silent sentinels over treasures buried beneath the soil where masses of autumn’s fallen have come to rest. Although the countryside appears to be wasted and barren, the soil in reality is teeming with life, life which the decaying matter warms and protects. And so it is time for us to rest and reflect on life, love, and home, whatever, whoever, and wherever that might be for you.

~The land enjoyed its sabbath rests… ~Excerpt from 2 Chronicles 36:21  ✝

**Image via Pinterest

12 thoughts on “1021. Life is a series of little deaths out of which life always returns. ~Charles Feidelson, Jr. ”

  2. Love this Natalie, and Willa CAther is among my “go to” authors when I’m looking for a good read. I have so many in that category I should start a new one of authors that I never want to touch. That would be short. If I don’t get back on this year, then here’s wishing you a happy New Year, if I make it back this year, I’ll add more and more wishes to this first one. Love and Hugs, A.

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