Wow, how did we get to December already? I know that time is a constant (it is, isn’t it?) so the flow of hours is dependent on our personal perceptions. Mine must have had too much coffee.

I just came back from a walk along the river that flows behind our house. My strolls are quicker this time of year but I get out every chance I can. So far, the morning cold has not stayed around long enough to crumple the earth under my feet. When it does, it gives you the sensation of walking on extremely wide-wale corduroy.

From now until the end of January, the quality of our winter sunlight is best described as watery. The woods on either side of our path are empty of green except for the Christmas ferns, Polystichum acrostichoides, that are flattening themselves to the ground. I’ve picked and pressed a fair number of them so today, I passed them by after admiring the ones dressed in frost crystals.

You see, I’m a collector of botanicals–seed heads, feathers on the ground, the occasional nest, leaves, interesting twigs, rocks, acorns, bark, river flotsam. It’s rare for me to get back home with empty pockets.

This morning, I spotted a sizable sycamore leaf lodged in the tangled branches of a wild honeysuckle. In spite of all the wind we’ve had, it was intact and the most awesome shade of honey-colored brown with a dark yellow stem and veins. It’s now being pressed under a pile of books.

I also found a trio of basswood (also called linden) seeds (Tilia Americana) still attached to the sail that guided them to earth. The seeds are about the size of individual peas, and they dangle in a cluster from a stem that protrudes from the center of a narrow leaf that’s quite unlike the linden’s green leaves of summer.

I arranged my daily hoard carefully for the walk home as the wind urged me to get along. With one last examining look at the river, now fuller than it’s been since our drought began in early July (thank goodness), I make the climb back to the house, looking forward to the rest of my day.

And part of that day will be spent arranging stories for you to enjoy as we traverse the last month of the year together. I started writing short tales and sketches about Carding, Vermont more than ten years ago. They eventually morphed into five novels (working on the sixth), and I still haven’t run out of tales to tell.

The three Carding Chronicles that will appear here during December are among my favorites. I hope you enjoy.

~Sonja Hakala