Quiet Time

The house is silent and empty for the first time in days. Everyone is off to his or her differing tasks and appointments in the city for the week.

Fog and clouds creep in as the sun comes up. Well I guess the sun came up…. There is light but the fog surrounds the clearing; clouds block the sun and these few acres of land seem cut off from the rest of the world. Warm winds have set the trees to motion. Not a sign of ice or snow is left. Thermometer on the deck reads 58° at seven am. Wave after wave of clouds billow across the sky.

Our retreat is situated on a side hill. Only half an acre of the seven acres is cleared; the rest are wooded and provide protection from the winds and storms as they pass up or down the Mongaup river canyon.

There is a constant whoosh of air, the sound nearly melodic as it accompanies the winds as they push trees to and fro. Wind eddies traveling up the hillside pick leaves from the ground lifting them high above the treetops and fling them down to fall again in new patterns to cover the woodland floor. At times the air is so filled with leaves that it is like a blizzard swirling around the clearing. Mid-day the rain begins; wet leaves now stay on the ground. By early evening there is a constant drumming of the rain on the roof. The birdbaths are filled with rainwater; any small depression in the earth has become a small pool; water is beginning to form into small rivulets that race down the hillside.

On this day in history Louisa May Alcott was born in Germantown, Pennsylvania on November 29, 1832.