That’s the poem that ran through my head as I knelt on the brick path to our front door, tugging dead ferns from the ground and scooping piles of brown pine needles into bags that Neighbor Susan tells us can be any color. The sky is the color of skim milk and it has rained most of the day, but there’s a false warmth to the air that sometimes teases me into thinking this is not late October–until I see those dead ferns, and watch leaves scuttling end-over-end down the early-darkening street.
I’m not melancholy, just reflective: appreciative of our good life, in a house with two bathrooms and kitchen appliances that match, and a brick front path to be proud of, and a forthcoming new job at Big Ol’ University (BOU), and a month between MPOW and FPOW to be used for all kinds of fun things (and I find painting bookcases and mixing cookie dough very relaxing, compared to my day job, so don’t worry I’m not getting any rest).
Tomorrow morning Sandy goes off to a conference for five days, so I can do things in my after-work play time during my last full week of work like eat organ meat, watch shoot-’em-up movies, and have lengthy conversations at Rex Audio about home entertainment systems. I’ll miss her soon enough, but at least for the first two days–my party hat is on and it’s liver flambe and Full Metal Jacket, hoo-ah!
Posted on this day, other years:
- Libraries, Google, OCA make first page of the New York Times - 2007
- ALA and New Orleans: So Just Go, O.k.? - 2005
- Thinking Through the Mega-Issues - 2004
- Greetings from your LITA Divisional Councilor - 2004
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