After several gorgeous days, it was dark and wet yesterday, but glorious again today. Do I say every year that I don’t remember a fall as beautiful as this one? Maybe I do. But it is. The trees are – cliché alert – a symphony of amber and gold, scarlet, russet, tangerine … I just had to get out, went for a walk to the Farm, met a friendly goat who tried to chew on my scarf. (Click to enlarge.)
I’m read for my closeup, Mr. DeMille.
Earlier today, a sparrow hawk landed just outside the window on the pergola frame. Look at those claws!
I awoke in the night, thinking about World War 3. That the lunatics have taken over the asylum, that calm, sensible governance seems further away than ever. David Suzuki was just on the radio, still bravely fighting for the environment; how can he not have lost heart by now? But he says he fights on for his grandchildren, and we must do the same for ours.
This is better. In the garden, one brave rosebush is blooming still. And my home class students are coming tonight. There will be stories. Delicious.
