High Nest

In my neighbor's yard there is a large maple, the first to turn red in October this year, bare now except for a large nest. It speaks to the state of things here. The birds grown and gone, leaves up and gone (off to the compost heap run by the city) and our memories of sunny skies long gone. Michigan is a very grey place this time of year. But there are symbols of life still to tide us over. I can see firs, cedars and junipers shaking with chilly wind, but elegantly standing.

Peter is leaving for a week of bright Florida sunshine this Sunday. That should be enough to dispel the effects of hibernation that we succumb to in this region. It's hard to keep spirits up and mental acuity sharp when the sun not only sets early, but rarely shows its face for the better part of November and December.

We do the things we should do to stay awake. He reads the NY Times, I work the crossword. We both study and write, him about political psychology, me about autism. Better than that, we are still out on our bicycles, braving the wind and cold for exercise. We love bicycling, although each week it takes more and more courage to suit up and head out the door. I would think that this would be enough to stave off the effects of hibernation. But it still comes. I envy Peter his trip.