"People who daily expect to encounter fabulous realities run smack into them again and again. They keep their minds open for their eyes." (Ken Macrorie)
In half an hour, light appeared and disappeared, wind blew and stilled, clouds drifted and raced, leaves shimmered and wafted, Green's View shifted its view like the weather -- unable (or unwilling) to let fall fall.
Boo's tree is so admired that during one fall football game (her house is across from the field) the Sewanee cheerleaders turned to face it and cheered for it (or so Boo says).
are few: today I saw one large white fluttering wildly like a drunk driver; one Gulf Fritillary, a bit too jumpy for the camera; and one zooming Spicebush Swallowtail.
But the skippers still flicker, filling up on fuchsia flowers, before the temperature turns for good.
incise gravestone words more deeply, dapple already dappled stone -- mossy, algaed, sprouting fungus and small blossoms.
The lanes, leaf-littered, run in and out of light, the canopy of trees dribbling acorns and twigs, parting every now and then to reveal electric blue sky.
The cemetery houses known and unknown, even the famous, but it's the stones that name the living as well as the dead that deepen the shadows even further. A wife who will be buried there next to her husband, a mother who will join her daughter in a twin grave -- these cause me to linger, perhaps because I know the living who will join their dead one day.But sky beckons, and I move out into light.
Reminiscent of the passion flowers of mid-summer and prescient of crocus to come in late winter, late purple aster stuns, spinning its own heat, sparkling like sun-struck water in Lake Cheston.
Early morning. Two deer rest on the grassy patch between my and my neighbor's house. When I part the curtain to take a grainy photo, the older doe looks at me, ears perked. I shoot, pour tea in the kitchen, return, and note they have disappeared as silently as they arrived.
Morning silence but for tappingkeys, whirring hard drive; tea breathing in stoneware cup, screen glowing. My doppelganger appears projected, umber shadow shimmering: October light.