I was away most of the week in New Haven, Connecticut, where the Quinnipiac River flows into Long Island Sound. After days of rain in Vermont, the Ottauquechee rose as the leaves fell. We are approaching "stick season," the spare time after foliage and before snow. For those who love to behold the crooked geometry of bare trunk and limb, let the contemplation begin. We have now five or more months to enjoy, at least here in the north country. The snow will cast those river-like shapes into even more stark relief, until the late spring rejuvenation.
Rudolf Steiner taught that this time without blossom or leaf signaled Earth's awakening from the dream of summer, a summoning of a crystalline awareness free of vegetative fancies. He urged us to wake up as well. Crystals the river knows have been, and will be again, ice. This morning, I scraped some off the windshield for the second or third time this fall.
The risen river water moves more swiftly than last week's lighter stream. Watching the leaves flow from under the bridge, they hurried toward the far bend at a FedEx pace. No ice there yet, at least that I have seen.
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