I don’t want to talk about it.
I love Santa Fe at all times of year, but fall is my favorite season. Late September and early October, especially.
The days are bright and sunny, but not hot. The air is crisp and clean, bracing. Dry, of course. We don’t believe in humidity. The nights are cool, the skies full of stars.
And this is when the trees start to turn. We don’t get the full fall colors they have in New England; nor many reds or oranges down this way. But the aspens and the cottonwoods turn yellow, and for a short time we have entire mountains that look as if they were dipped in gold.
The big cottonwood outside my house is one that turns. So gorgeous.
In a world that is so sad and troubled and full of hate, it is good to know that we can still stop and see the trees.
Current Mood: contemplative
I had another birthday sneak up on me last Wednesday, September 20. Honestly, I don’t know where the time goes. The years seem to be flying past much faster than they used to. We had a great birthday party, with lots of friends on hand. Thanks to them, and to all of you out there who sent cards and even gifts (not necessary, though). Friends, family, fans, readers, viewers, I appreciate all of you.
Birthdays always make me think of Eliot.
I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
For what it is worth, I mostly wear jeans, not white flannel trousers, and I remain unafraid of peaches. We had peach ice cream at the party, yum yum. Along with homemade apple pie, Papa Hemingway’s favorite hamburgers, corn on the cob, and baked beans. The weather was perfect, and the company was great.
And who knows, maybe one day the mermaids will sing for me.
Current Mood: contemplative