Yarrow (angelweed) wrote,
Yarrow
angelweed

Thanksgiving, rememberance, and a digital omen

Shana and Jim's Thanksgiving dinner was smaller this year than last, which worked well for me: large enough to feel like a party, small enough for this introvert to feel comfortable. Shana, Jim, and me; Shana's daughter Sara and her soon-to-be husband Luke; Kelpie and Shal from Twin Oaks; and Milo and Susan and their son Orion. So much fun I went to sleep forgetting the Truly Important Things of Life, namely my NaBloPoMo entry. But this is before the dawn, so I'm counting it as Friday's post.

I woke up from a dream: I'm urging Marsha to apply to teach at camp, and also to be forthright about what she'll need. She's still using her wheelchair, but I tell her to ask for somebody to help her eat lunch, since I can't guarantee I'll be available. (This is mixing history, since she could feed herself long after she was bedridden.) And she'll need to make sure her path is in the Great Barn. I tell her I want her to have the experience of camp. When I wake up, I remember that we're moving from Claymont to Four Quarters Farm this year, so no Great Barn. Then I remember that Marsha's dead.

I got out of bed at 4:44 a.m. (So I'm informed by somebody's cell phone charging in the bathroom.) I'd never have noticed that on an analog clock.

Offering:
Sunset.
Just above freezing.
On the branch,
One leaf unfallen.
Tags: marsha, witchcamp
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