"Let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!”

~Henry Ward Beecher~ 

 A fine mist hangs over the field on this early November morning.  The dampness renders the leaves on the ground and those that remain on the trees much richer in color.  Dew clings to the tall field grasses.  As I walk past, I brush my hand across them, leaving a fine shower of droplets in my wake.  It is going to be a fine day, but it is chilly now and my cheeks feel flushed. I tuck my hands in my pockets to warm them, stop, and breathe deeply the fragrance of mouldering leaves and earth and pine and an unidentifiable spice…

The sun is beginning to burn through the mist.  It is going to be a fine day and I think I will do some lovely things ~ a bit of antiquing, perhaps; a stop at the farm market; and when I get back, I will head out into the field, cutters in hand, to gather rose hips. 

 "The fires burn and the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest until next spring."

 ~Elizabeth Coatsworth~