Wow. It's hard to believe that it's already the middle of November, and even harder to believe that it's almost 2024.
The Holiday Office party is on the calendar, and I RSVP'd 'yes' for the first time since 2019. I'm thinking about six or seven years ago when I was goaded into joining two of my office friends on stage at the 'afterparty' for a karaoke version of 'Don't Stop Believin'.' I'm anticipating a more sedate series of events this year.
Soon it will be January, which means that we'll already be looking forward to spring. Will it snow this year? A part of me hopes that it will not, because I don't enjoy shoveling, but a part of me hopes that it will, so that I can pretend for a little while longer that global warming is revokable.
It's been a quiet fall in the garden. Leaves drift to the ground. As I sweep them up, it's nice to think about what the garden looked like a few years ago, and how it will look next year. We recently moved an azalea into a pot and are planning to transplant our toad lilies into the spot previously occupied by the azalea after they've gone to sleep for the winter. Things are going to look different, which is exciting to consider. Change can feel good when it's manageable, which I suspect is a reason many people enjoy gardening.
I recently read Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler, whose primary character -- while living in a neoliberal dystopia similar to the Walking Dead (but without zombies) -- founds a religion based around the idea that God is change. The first novel is set in 2024, when (via Wikipedia) "society in the United States has grown unstable due to climate change, growing wealth inequality, and corporate greed."
It's something I've been thinking about as we head into 2024. I'm craving change, but I have many fears about it, too.
For now, I'm enjoying the November light, which is especially beautiful when it illuminates our dawn redwood.
This is the view from our window. When we bought the dawn redwood in 2006 (I think), it was three feet tall.
Now it's over forty feet.
God is change, I guess.
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