equinox

i cast on yarn that reminds me of bracken, 

ferns that have lost their gentle fronds,

that have dried and bent back into the earth,

a far cry from their bright green fiddleheads of the spring.

balsamic-poached figs,

(recipe in october issue of whole living magazine)

resting in the fridge for an evening when

a roasted chicken and a puddle of polenta

might call out for them.

autumn.

the best of all.

welcome, sweetness.