Notes from the Creek — November 16, 2025
The leaves are finally starting to come down in crowds. It took a long time to happen this year, like they wanted to hang on and see the autumn change to winter for themselves. And on the early dark nights, crunching through them when I walk the dog, takes me back to every fall I’ve ever known.
I stop to wonder here what is the pull that keeps me so keen to get to fall and winter, the colours and the memories. It’s like a gravitational force that tugs my heart and gut forward, like I can hardly wait to see, even though I know it will be the same year after year. The wait is hard, sometimes struggling through drought and heat and forest fires, but the glory when it arrives is great.
I imagine John the Baptist, looking for signs throughout his lifetime, waiting for something he knew in his gut would happen. Perhaps it is the same, a longing, fulfilment of a promise, a knowing. Perhaps we are the same, connecting through centuries.
Jenn Ashton