I am participating in Gratitude Week 2017 which is hosted by the very lovely Michelle at  It is for one week and open to anyone.

One of the things in my life I am so consistently grateful for is bearing witness to the change in seasons.  I have been graced to live in Haddonfield for 39 years and there has been no finer place on the planet to watch this beauty unfold.

I took this picture last week.  I was struck by the contrast of the unseasonal warm weather and the stark November landscape. If the weatherman is right about this week, you better go looking for that sweater.

And I stumbled upon this poem awhile ago and I think it is perfect for this month.

The Birds


are heading south, pulled
by a compass in the genes.
They are not fooled
by this odd November summer,
though we stand in our doorways
wearing cotton dresses.
We are watching them
as they swoop and gather—
the shadow of wings
falls over the heart.
When they rustle among
the empty branches, the trees
must think their lost leaves
have come back.
The birds are heading south,
instinct is the oldest story.
They fly over their doubles,
the mute weathervanes,
teaching all of us
with their tailfeathers
the true north.