December
At last the long-awaited season of rustling autumn leaves as November draws to a close.
Chilling winds whip through the tree tops, gradually stripping the trees bare for their winter nap.
The ground beneath is covered with splotches of color from the fallen leaves.
Such is the world of nature in December.
Walking quietly along the mountain path, I discover hidden among the fallen leaves ripe berries of snake gourd, smilax and holly timidly poking out their heads to bask in the early winter sun.
I toss some foul-smelling rubiaceous vine, snake gourd and other wild flowers into the bamboo basket I carry on my back. I feel the warm unseasonable sun beaming through the trees.
The month of December goes by a number of names: "Shiwasu," * "The Final Moon," "Winter Preparation Month." All of them have a nice ring to them. I can’t wait for New Years.
* "A busy time even for the Master"
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