As always December shocks me with its early and stern sunsets. It feels even earlier as I returned in mid November from a wonderful adventure to Korea. On my trip I felt as if I was a seed carried on the pant leg of pottery that landed in the fertile soil of a potters' family. I had a wonderful intimate cultural immersion. Now that I am back in my own home I see my landscape with a clear eye. Leaves, pods and branches read like calligraphic marks. I remember reading a stark line from a letter by Emily Dickinson comparing the months to countries. One can only imagine what month she might have compared with going some place as culturally varied as Korea.
"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."
--Emily Dickinson from a letter to her father
"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."--Emily Dickinson from a letter to her father
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