Somehow it’s the middle of November.
Fog blankets my piece of the world and it’s beautiful and silent. I sit at the window and watch it do nothing but hover and think it is the wisest of all the things that jostle for my attention.
Soon it will be winter but for now we live in the in-between. Wisdom comes from within the liminal. The trick is to to be still and quiet enough to hear it.
The fog invites us.