For some reason I seem to be experiencing a vague foreboding.  Like a small cloud of some sort of oppression— a hovering chill; trouble looking for somewhere to strike–maybe around the next turn.

I have no idea what it is, or why…but it’s there…riding the winds from the north

Our autumn days wax and wane from warm to cold and back again to repeat as the leaves change and flutter to the ground.  There is a tingle to air promising winter is not far off now.

On chill days the wood stove heats the house; two cats and our dog; and a toasting husband.  The knots of burning elm tick faintly as they pop and burn warming the air.

And still I feel it…that unsettled feeling…like the night air breathing on my neck. (If I were a cat my fur would be lifted in alarm.)

Oh, well…I continue forward.  There is nothing much else to do…we ride out checking the corn, measuring the dryness (16%—when it reaches 15% we can start harvesting)

Sitting around worrying is time wasted.

We ride (skimming) through the farm, on roads which which sometimes look like wild pathways…over the Coyote trails and onto Coyote Hill… the little trip makes me think of all the old, ancient ones who walked here way before me.

For this I give thanks, ask for protection for this land I love, all the living things on it, and for my husband and children and the children of my children, and you, my friends; protection and safety for you, also.

Then I wait…maybe whatever this feeling is will dissipate and go away.

The warmth of a light heart will return— I can travel each day with ease.

I am ready for that time to come!

From my world to your heart,

Linda