I may have posted my feather collection before, but will tell you a little story about why I think this represents ‘home’ for me. Ever since my son Olin was a toddler he has been picking up feathers for me. It became a tradition we shared which continues on to this day. I have hundreds at this point from all over the country of places we have visited together. Sometimes is was at a rest stop along the highway, other times along a trail in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and often in our front yard. I now have other people collecting feathers for me since they have seen my collection. This photo is of one of these collections that displays some of my favorites. They are being held by a glass decanter given to me by my grandmother. This collection is more than just a collection, it is a ritual of time spent and shared with my son.
It is happening! That bittersweet time of year here in Connecticut when the leaves dance about and put on their magnificent show. I say bittersweet because I know winter is coming and I certainly do not look forward to the cold, yet there is something magical about Fall in New England. The air changes to a special kind of crispness and even smells different, air conditioners and flip flops are traded for warm fires and boots, hay barrels, cornstalks and pumpkins adorn homes and the pace of life in general takes on a slower pace as the days get shorter. These changes are definitely a part of me and center me in this place. Even if I moved I would always consider New England my home.
Have a good week!
p.s. What does Fall in Charleston look like?