Winter light

 In the Southern Appalachians, low humidity in winter brings clarity that doesn't exist in summer, nor in the shoulder seasons.

This afternoon, looking out our kitchen windows about 4:30 pm, I was heartened by the light.

Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice.  A transition when the days start getting longer again.  It's a liminal time, according to many traditions.  I feel that, even as I walk the ground with practical feet, firmly in the presence of the natural world, which reminds me of seasonal change, too.

The ravine forest below the house was illuminated, too.

I count our blessings as we move through the holidays, in unusual times.  I've written before about how we'd normally traveled over winter break;  in the last two years, we've had a lovely Christmas Eve or Christmas Day lunch or dinner at Deerpark at Biltmore Estate, in addition to our special meals at home, anticipating leaving for Quebec in early January, skirting snowstorms in our travels.

Neither will happen this year, as Deerpark is only open for special events and the Canadian border is still closed.  But 2021 will bring a new cycle into our lives, as it will to all of us, as we emerge from this strange year.

A male mockingbird nearby was singing this morning.  He was singing his complete song cycle, we thought, perhaps to mark his feeding territory.  We hadn't heard him all fall, so were surprised, but his songs were welcome.