Demeter passes through the land, the dying grasses in her hand.
Inktober day 20: Tread.
I really did read the official prompt, and then ignored it. But maybe Demeter passes with a heavy tread. Or a slow one, or lightly but sorrowfully. But mixed with joy; maybe she has some love for her husband in the underworld, maybe she knows that we all need time to go inward to ourselves and our communities, to preserve and honor the harvest we’ve gathered during the warm months.
Inktober day 6. The prompt was “Husky”, but I went with “Husk”.
weaving baskets for the harvest of summer
Summer’s winding down. Pumpkins, chilly fog, hoping those last tomatoes get a chance to ripen before the first frost.
I live in a place with lots of small farms. On my drive home I passed a couple of fields where they were cutting and baling hay. Thinking about harvest, even after this dry dry summer.
I was thinking about drought leading to loss of subsistence farming, after reading an article about the antecedents of the Syrian refugee crisis.
A terrible harvest.
as the day shortens the sun pours itself into the ripening fields
everyone knows that this year’s harvest comes from last year’s bones