There are words nearly ripe for the harvest. They are beginning to hang heavy on the tree of my soul, ready to be plucked down and savored. We have labored at life so fully this year, with mostly sunshine and busyness, though there were days of rain and stillness as well. But every kind of moment is necessary to the nourishment of Things to Say, and I cannot begrudge the rainy season it’s moment.

I am eager, eyeing this bounty to come. It’s been a long season of quiet, and it’s nearly to feast.

 

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