That Time of Year

Late that night something woke me up. We were sleeping in the living room. It was dark, but the glow of the coals in the fireplace cast an orange light around the room.

I opened my eyes. And as I did, a bright orange line of flame no wider than a pencil rose from the glowing embers around the remains of one log and climbed the updraft toward the flue.

It was a strange flame: bright, narrow, and tall. I watched it for a few moments, and then closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

Winter has arrived all of a sudden. From the warm, wet weather of our fall, it came crashing around the corner almost on cue as the month turned. The air got cold. The leaves fell from the oaks and ash trees up and down the street. The sky turned cloudy and bleak.

But there are glowing embers in the fireplace. There are flames to watch. And there are lights flickering on the houses, in the bushes, and in tree branches up and down the street.

It's beginning to feel a lot like that time of year.

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