"It Is the Season of Migrants"

I realize it’s been fall for a while (I mean, we’ve already had snow) but the last few days in particular have felt very autumnal. I love fall, it’s probably my favorite season. It’s a contemplative season. It feels reflective and calm and like the whole world is hunkering down and snuggling up. But most importantly, it’s wool season.

I’ve been reading a very interesting series of blog posts by Kate Davies over at needled. She is a Scottish academic who writes about textile history (also has some great designs) and lately she’s been blogging all about Wovember, a movement to turn November into a celebration of all things 100% wool. Her posts point out how many commercially made garments claim to be made of wool or have ‘wool’ in the description while they actually contain 0% wool. She also discusses some of the history behind wool, it’s pretty fascinating stuff. Go read it!

Here’s a fall poem with ecological undertones I came across earlier today:

Echoing Light by W.S. Merwin
When I was beginning to read I imagined
that bridges had something to do with birds
and with what seemed to be cages but I knew
that they were not cages it must have been autumn
with the dusty light flashing from the streetcar wires
and those orange places on fire in the pictures
and now indeed it is autumn the clear
days not far from the sea with a small wind nosing
over dry grass that yesterday was green
the empty corn standing trembling and a down
of ghost flowers veiling the ignored fields
and everywhere the colors I cannot take
my eyes from all of them red even the wide streams
red it is the season of migrants
flying at night feeling the turning earth
beneath them and I woke in the city hearing
the call notes of the plover then again and
again before I slept and here far downriver
flocking together echoing close to the shore
the longest bridges have opened their slender wings

Happy, happy fall…
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