Thanksgiving, November 27, 2025, 37.9*, 94% RH, 0704
Three voices: Pine Siskin, Raven, Evening Grosbeak welcome us into stillness, into wonder. The sky offers her painting with clinging leaves amidst evergreens, too wilted to identify. Marcescence – a pretty word with a magical sound, the word for trees that hold onto dead leaves. The leaves in my photo are probably oak. Beech would be golden. On my last walk in the woods with Bruce, a breeze sang beech leaves to us.
For things present, for those passed, gratefulness.
Photo: LJ Austin
