'Til Death Do You A Favor
Autumn brings its usual antiquated and pagan rituals, with people celebrating old fashioned religious rites with the fervor of cave-dwellers piercing the hides of buffalo fetishes.
The clocks go back tonight (I think,) and the children dress up in a day or two and go door to door to get candy.
Meanwhile, people across the nation fight to change state constitutions so they may legally own each other.
I'm packing my bags, and getting ready to go to Texas. Up in Boone, they're about to start cutting trees, trees that will be shipped half way across to the country, to a place that couldn't grow a Frasier fir under any circumstances, but a place where people will pay exhorbitant amounts of money to stick some greenery in their living rooms at the start of winter. The greenery has some symbolism attached to the shortest day of the year, holds some promise of hope when all around is brown and dieing and it keeps getting colder. It means a lot to me. It means the green will keep rolling in, though the fields are frosted and I can't grow vegetables and the markets are closed, alas, I will not starve after all. There is hope, hope pinned to an evergreen bough, a tiny piece of greenery that can be deposited and see me through the winter, to when the sun warms the earth once more and seeds sprout in the fields.
The clocks go back tonight (I think,) and the children dress up in a day or two and go door to door to get candy.
Meanwhile, people across the nation fight to change state constitutions so they may legally own each other.
I'm packing my bags, and getting ready to go to Texas. Up in Boone, they're about to start cutting trees, trees that will be shipped half way across to the country, to a place that couldn't grow a Frasier fir under any circumstances, but a place where people will pay exhorbitant amounts of money to stick some greenery in their living rooms at the start of winter. The greenery has some symbolism attached to the shortest day of the year, holds some promise of hope when all around is brown and dieing and it keeps getting colder. It means a lot to me. It means the green will keep rolling in, though the fields are frosted and I can't grow vegetables and the markets are closed, alas, I will not starve after all. There is hope, hope pinned to an evergreen bough, a tiny piece of greenery that can be deposited and see me through the winter, to when the sun warms the earth once more and seeds sprout in the fields.
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