Here we find ourselves at the end of another year. Each day is a little longer now, and every extra minute of light in the sky feels like a gift.
This time of year always pulls us in two directions, doesn't it? The waning light and cold air, the quiet woods and windswept beaches, seem to direct us inward.
Last year, shortly before the election, the kids and I planted a small fortune's worth of bulbs at my parents' house: red tulips, snowdrops and blue hyacinths.
Childhood is a strangely-shaped box and once you clamber out you can never quite fit back inside.
There will be an information session with the energy committee at the library at 2:30 p.m. on Dec. 5.
The full moon of November, called the Beaver Moon, will rise on Friday, Nov. 19, joined by a partial lunar eclipse.
Town meeting is next week. Do you have a ride secured, a childcare plan, your knitting packed?
Do you ever feel that the weather so perfectly echoes your emotional state -- cloud cover, likelihood of precipitation, even record-shattering events such as last week's bomb cyclone -- that your psychological health might just as well be charted by your local meteorologist?
I'm writing this during a lovely, cozy, stormy afternoon, which looks as though it will get even stormier.
