The chill rolled in slowly, cold gray clouds filling up the sky. By noon, the day began to feel like fall’s easy warmth might be yielding to northern air. Evening confirmed that suspicion. I worked in the closing bit of light, trying to finish fitting the windows into their openings in the mudroom wall. I set up work lights at the corner, turning one toward the north and the other toward the east. Shifting from one window to the other, I caught the first traces of rain in the bright halogen glow.

I kept working, knowing that sometimes November will send the briefest bit of warning before the rain settles in for the night. Randa came back up from moving the horse from the pasture to the shed, “Starting to rain, ” she noted, “I felt some drops.”

She helped me level the smaller window, then went inside while I finished fastening the screws and sealed the flashing. The returning rain settled my wondering about installing the metal strip along the lower edge of the new roofing; I started loading tools into the wheelbarrow and carted them back out to the garage.

Heading back for a second trip, I saw the eastern sky. The lights of Saint Joseph, a dozen miles away, brushed a pastel glow into the clouds. Soft tones of pink and orange lined the streaks and lit that low heaven like the last lights of a winter sunset. The long, limber tips of the trees lining the ditch fringed and framed the view, its gentle color more dramatic by their standing silhouette.

Even in the coming of cold and rain, there may be some quiet gain of beauty, if we will but stand still for a moment. The same God who gave us duty also gives us this.

H. Arnett

11/15/10