The sweet chill of fall

The cold wind coming down from the Smokey Mountains give one the taste of winter on the tongue. No snow came to the Valley but in other states light powder dusted the land. The crisp smell of fall in everywhere, coming in ghostly wisps of wood smoke. Everywhere, people make ready to roast turkeys and bake pies.

This will be a different holiday for the Clan, as we will be missing one of our dear members. Angela would make her pumpkin pies and bring out her fine china. This year, we won't have those things or her, which changes the lay of the land in more than one way. One the other side of the Wheel, I hope she whom I called Moonstone is feasting with friends long since passed away. It is the chief most serenity I can hope for.

So here is a Happy Thanksgiving from the Heart of Home. May it be full of family, feasting and the sweet chill of fall.