I miss the country in the wintertime when all the leaves are gone from the trees – the embellishments of nature fall to the ground and turn to the soil. The energy of the plants leave the periphery and sink down into the core – into their roots, and everything becomes quiet.
December is the month of my mother, the month of the moon and the month of winter magic. A quiet kind of magic, when everything is pregnant with itself.
This winter I am quiet. Sinking into my core, my roots, contemplating my origin and thinking of my mother.
Thank you Susan for the space you have left for December. I think of you often and miss you always. Love, Love, Love.
Susan Davis Martin, M.A., M.F.T. & StillDancing... 
I miss the country in the wintertime when all the leaves are gone from the trees – the embellishments of nature fall to the ground and turn to the soil. The energy of the plants leave the periphery and sink down into the core – into their roots, and everything becomes quiet.
December is the month of my mother, the month of the moon and the month of winter magic. A quiet kind of magic, when everything is pregnant with itself.
This winter I am quiet. Sinking into my core, my roots, contemplating my origin and thinking of my mother.
Thank you Susan for the space you have left for December. I think of you often and miss you always. Love, Love, Love.
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Susannah, a lovely and poetic tribute to your Mother and the season.
I welcome hearing your voice here at Vox Anima!
❤️
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