There was a fearsome force hereabouts last week. It made the windows rattle and branches snapped. It tossed most of the last of the leaves – and everything else – about. Our leaves, our neighbor’s, their neighbor’s – and on and on and on, baring the trees and bending our heads, the mighty wind did blow.
So it goes in November; a month of letting go, as we here in the northern hemisphere turn a sharp corner into winter.
I was thinking about this Novembersish “letting go” on Friday; the leaves falling, the wind blowing, the subtle shifts of angel rays dappling the woodwork, walls, and what-knots of my life. I caught the sun awakening on this stone rabbit who resides in a corner of the living room. A bit of luck as the morning light usually fades as fast as the time it takes to grab a camera . . .
. . . as fast as a life can be snuffed out by those who choose to reign in terror.
I started this post early on Friday. I planned to write about the changing weather; the fallen leaves, the harsh winds. I went about my day, attended a lovely luncheon, did a few errands, made a few phone calls and texts to loved ones; my everyday life here on the Cutoff. I had an audio book to keep me company in the car, so did not hear the horrific news coming out of Paris until a phone call with Jennifer, who is often the barometer in my life, gently giving me readings of where the winds of life are blowing.
My heart and prayers go out to all whose lives were forever changed. My heart and prayers go out for Paris.
As do the hearts and prayers of us all, Penny. Such hatred and wanton disregard for human life is nearly unfathomable and yet it exists, and seems to expand daily, a dark shadow looming. Although I must say, that’s a shadow very unlike the smile-inducing shadow in your living room corner. A hug (because we could all use one right now) is attached here.
LikeLike
Hugs back to you, Karen. Thank you.
LikeLike
Such a truly poignant and meaningful post, dear Penny! You have beautifully shown how the everyday lives of people everywhere were once again rocked by tragic acts of terrorism. Joining Karen, by sending a big hug to all who read your well-chosen words! ♡
LikeLike
Thank you, Dawn. Hugs returned. You say it well. “everyday lives of people everywhere”.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is so awful.
LikeLike
Yes, Nan. Awful.
LikeLike
Such evil is beyond belief. I do pray for all involved and all who will be involved in the future as it seems the end is not yet in sight. So very sad.
LikeLike
I am afraid you may be right, Marilyn. Thank you.
LikeLike
What a beautiful and yet poignant post Penny. How can we explain this senseless killing? Joining Karen and Dawn , sending you hugs to all of you.
LikeLike
Hugs back to you, Gerlinde. Thank you.
LikeLike
A tree near me snapped in half due to that fearsome force. 😦
I also grieve the news from Paris. I have missionary friends there. I’m just glad they’re safe and able to help others.
LikeLike
Sorry to hear of that tree damage – that’s a big loss, I’m sure.
It is good to know that your friends are safe, L. Marie, and that they are able to help others. So any need aid; in Paris and so many other places.
LikeLike
As always a beautifully written post about an unspeakably horrible event. I can’t write about this evil , I am glad you can.
LikeLike
Thank you, Sallie. I admit to struggling with composing this, but, here I am. Take care.
LikeLike
I always struggle to make sense of these incidents and expect them to become more frequent. I can’t say “commonplace,” because I don’t want to live in a world where we become immune to this type of atrocity. I read a riveting article in March 2015’s The Atlantic about the motivations behind ISIS and how our world leadership had underestimated them. Given everything that’s happened since, the article was prescient.
LikeLike
Sadly, you may be right, Andra. They already are more frequent. Much more frequent. I will look for that issue/article. Take care.
LikeLike
That wind was something else, wasn’t it? It blew over a little bush I planted in the Spring that was doing really well – I hope it survives. Now I’m in the house looking out at the cold rain hoping we get a little reprieve so I can walk the dog without the two of us getting drenched. This is a very nice post Penny. I don’t know how to make a polite comment about the attack on Paris.
LikeLike
It sure was, Janet. Everything looks “worse for the wear” since then. I hope your bush survives. I hope you had the chase to walk the dog. It was really pouring here about an hour ago. The attack in Paris was awful, as have been so many others. Thanks for stopping in, Janet. We need a good “coffee talk” soon.
LikeLike
Ah, Penny! You, too, were going about your every day business when the startling and disturbing news broke in to break peace. Like your Jennifer, once I learned I immediately contacted my cousin, who just returned from Paris. She visits at least once a year and leaves a part of her heart there upon each year’s return to California. She had been in meetings and my “news” was her alert. I felt so sorry to be the one to share it with her. I think we are all grieving along with those most deeply affected and it’s a very sobering time. Your description of November storms and “letting go” hit a sensitive chord, for sure. ox
LikeLike
I am sure you were shocked, Debra, and then took the burdensome responsibility to tell you cousin. How much better to hear it from someone who cares, as opposed to the stark reality of this news on television or radio. It is a sobering time; one I keep hoping and praying will pass, yet feeling the realism of the world we live in right now. Take care, my friend.
LikeLike
A fearsome force indeed Penny; such shocking news, and linking hands across the world with friends is very comforting at such times. Thank you for your beautiful posts dear blogging friend, from a rather remiss blogger in NZ.
LikeLike
I am always delighted to see your name pop up, Juliet. As I write, we are having our very first snowfall of the season – and I’m sure you are greening and warming with each new day.
I like the idea of us linking hands. It is a comfort, Juliet, and I thank you for your kind words.
LikeLike