1. The distant hoot of owls in darkness not yet risen, luring us across the threshold.

2. The Christmas Cactus readying its tender buds for blooming.

3. The curls of fog like a cozying cowl around the collar of our mountain perch.

4. Moss and plum, rust and mustard, eggplant and olive, all suddenly colouring the season.

5. A sharpness in the wind, halos of red on treetops and orange at fringes, the wobble before the fall. Everything so urgently commands our notice now.

6. The earth is so dry, I hear the grass breaking underfoot. I walk slowly to give the crickets time to spring themselves, left and right, to safety.

7. Spelt loaf fresh from the oven, still swollen with heat, steam rising from inside the slice.

8. The lightsculptures on purpose again, keeping our insides aglow while darkness takes its rightful reign.

9. My mukluks, so much like pets, always at my feet.

10. My pride of dreamers, healing the impossible, turning wounds into art.