yarn along | 4

I’ve spent two days hurrying about, occasionally pausing at the window to watch autumn chase winter across the thick grey overhead. The twin sycamores behind the house have steadily discarded their garb, some leaves larger than our hands and each like a golden magic carpet sailing past the panes. Even on the ground, they waft restless, waving goodbye to November while December rings out a haunting melody on the chimes outside the kitchen window. Everything around me, all creation, has seemed a whirl of endless motion and nagging noise. And this morning, December was born into cold quiet, and I awoke to an entirely different duty. Stillness. It is time for me be still, and I wonder, is that even possible? Could I, for the next twenty-five days, just be still and here and childlike? Have I forgotten how? And then my eyes come to rest on the bounty piled early on the kitchen table and I’m hopeful that somehow between breakfasts with Calvin Miller’s The Christ of Christmas and then The Advent Jesse Tree (Dean Lambert Smith) in the flickering candlelight at each day’s end, I will not return to the far too familiar frenzy.  But instead, in the space between, we would burrow deep in blankets and finish the peppermint scarf begun last winter and mine golden books like Shoemaker Martin {tell me, how have we missed this book until now?!?!} and for twenty-five days, we would just be.

Today we begin the slow recounting – the quiet wait – twenty-five days gleaming bright and clean, wrapped warm in words and pictures. I’ve not entirely settled on a rhythm for this space during the Christmas season, but it will likely shift. Some days, perhaps only a quiet picture or two. Gentle reflection. After all, there is noise everywhere, isn’t there? I’m joining Ginny for Yarn Along today. {I do love Wednesdays!} Be sure to visit her original post for a list of delicious books and beautiful handmades.

p.s. Friday, Saturday, Sunday…we’ll gather once again for three days of  {i n h a b i t}, a celebration of home. I am so enjoying the growing community that has embraced this weekend ritual. Your words and pictures are so beautiful. Thank you for sharing them.