Thursday, October 26, 2006

The sun is coming

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I cannot find anything to write about. Writers Block?
I just read a little story by Patti Smith. It made me feel good.
Happy Halloween.

THE SON IS COMING Yesterday I awoke quite early to the sound of jackhammers outside my window. Workmen were tearing up the street, replacing the sewage lines. It wasa gloomy day; I dressed hastily, grabbed my old black coat and watch cap, my battered copy of A season in Hell and headed for my favorite cafe. The same cafe every morning. The same time. Opening hour. 9 a.m. The same fare. Italian espresso with a side of hot water and procuitto on toast. I was in a dark humor as I navigated a bulldozer to cross Houston. Someone tapped me on the shoulder.I looked up and realized I was surrounded by a group of mentally challenged students. A young boy tapped me again, looked in my eyes and said, "The sun is coming!The sun is coming!" At first I thought he might be referring to the Second Coming, but then I noticed the sun struggling to pierce the heavy dark sky. We stood there in the middle of the street watching it succeed then spread its rays and warmth upon us.The boy was whisked away by his guardian and I stood there alone, regarding the sun, as cars honked impatiently.I realized by the time I hit the cafe I was smiling. The enthusiasm of the boy as well as the sun itself had entered me and I felt of an inexplicable joy.Today It was the same drill. The jackhammer and the rain.The same time, same coffee, same cafe. same book. The boy did not appear nor did the sun, but I thought about them both and was happy anyway.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Autumn in New England

One often thinks of fall as colors involving brown, red & Yellow. That is often not the case as seen by these Autumn wild flowers on this hillside meadow. It is still quite green here with lush foliage so reminiscent of the quintessential country experience. You can almost taste the herbal tea brewing in the clay pot sitting on the dining room table . Until we enter the golden season which typically occurs after the first frost, it is still late summer with many birds, monarch butterflys morphing from caterpillars on milkweed & a sun shining down of the dewy morning grass. Early morning fog rises from the lowland rivers and streams as the flocks of geese fly in V formation overhead calling to eachother to fly still further south in their annual migration. The rapid reduction of daylight hours is dimming the memory of summer but so much of nature hangs on for the last gasp of a season that is all too short. Posted by Picasa