November

A month of danger for my home is located a very few feet from a wild and raging river. A river that occasionally can not handle the November rains, which rises to damage and destroy all that I possess.

A month of masculine tradition for men from throughout the area will gather under my watch to smoke tobacco in a very traditional way. To relive the pleasures accepted as commonplace by their fathers, grandfathers, and beyond reaching into history.

A month of family for we will travel to share a meal of Thanksgiving with parents and siblings. An obligation, yet perhaps a positive obligation for it is important to remember where one comes from, important to remember the honor ones family holds.

A month of intimate friends for on the holiday itself we will not travel. We will cook our own meal, a meal that we will share with our friends, lovers, our chosen family.

A month that has today broken in sunshine. The green of the hemlock tree outside my bedroom window perfect in it’s vibrancy. A month that will end in rain. Life-giving water falling to continue the circle of existence.