The summer clothes are stuffed in a dark corner of the closet and Lady Gravity pulls everything down once November starts. Degrees are swept below the porch with the leaves of frightened trees. Layers are added to the staircases, the shrubs, the bed and our little brittle heads. We rub our hands together to produce some kind of magic, if not at the bus stop, under hot water or in the stench of the sleepy heating devices.

Pedals are slowly left to settle with cobwebs and dust as we reach for our monthly passes. Squeezed into the middle of the crowded bus, we attempt to grab a secure fixture, pushing our arm through puffy coats and yards of scarves. We sweat in silence. Despite the biting cold we’ve just escaped, we feel sleepy.




We hurry across the street into the grocery store to buy our seasonal first aid kit:

butternut squash
hot chocolate
macaroni + cheese
oatmeal
pop corn
rice
spiced tea
sweet potatoes

We hurry to unlock the door, to take off boots and run to the tissue box. Heavy coat hung up, day clothes are abandoned and evening dress is slipped into. A candle or two is lit, thermostat dial turned and water is boiling; all these important details in preparation for a comforting autumn evening, filled with books, films, letters and weighty quilts. It’s time to disappear again, but only for a few storms and stacks of firewood.

Labels: beard, graphic journal, mood