Untidy threads were trimmed.
I sat by the fireside looking at the latest offering to the gods of quilting,
The urgency to finish sated… for the moment.
Closing my eyes momentarily in weariness, I leaned back in the overstuffed chair stretched my aching arthritic fingers and looked around my domain.
Hope sat quietly in her little chair by my side, while I told her about the quilt, strips of the golds and greens; blues and reds; the black of night; the warming sun; the memories of that golden week in West Virginia.
Evergreen branches -Green fingers reaching out to grab the unwary walker
Sycamores dropping leaves of tan and red, white strips of bark dangling, slipping silently to the ground
Bears hiding in darkened corners filling up for the long hibernation...
Raccoons racing through the golden leaves hunting, hunting….
Small red deer peering through baring branches, looking warily
Hunters hiding, sneaking, trailing…
Gold, tan, black, red; colors of the autumn life in the Shenandoah mountains
And Figaro, fat, and lazy sauntering towards the cabin porch for a nap
In the sun.