November is not a time for flowers, the days short and cold. Heavy clouds drag at my mood, and sleet like a muttered curse propels me indoors--I am reluctant to venture out again. So when the sun breaks through for that rare yellow day, maybe the last time before the snow falls, I have to go.
Because the woods are quiet this time of year without leaves or birds, the buzz of a bee seems inordinately loud...
Witch Hazel
Braiding Sweetgrass
Robin Wall Kimmerer
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