I kept noticing the gold and orange on the trees today. Striking against the wool-gray sky, they shone out like a circus tent in an industrial park. I caught my breath over and over, knowing that the sky was whispering threats against my beloved Fall. "Snow."
And now the fat, heavy, rain-wet flakes are falling and congregating in bewildered heaps on the grass, saying, "Gosh, I feel like we just left..."
Winter is too quiet, yet. I am still learning to tend the fire of summer in my heart, so I can be warm all through the darkness. I'm not ready.
Sara Renee Logan has been telling stories to everyone who would listen since she was seven. She organized storytimes for her college roommates, and spent a year at Oxford studying folklore and folktales. Many years as a Waldorf teacher allowed her to tell stories about everything from Baba Yaga's hut on chicken legs to the water cycle to the life of Joan of Arc. Sara shares her life with her partner, Melanie, their son, and an unreasonable family of pets. She continues to share her love of storytelling and stories with audiences of all ages, specializing in bringing the wild beauty of folktales to young and old. Sara writes about parenting, storytelling, and about living a life with stories.