It feels as though I turned my head for just a moment and September was gone. It has been a busy month, filled with Labor Day, a Son-In-Law’s birthday, a Granddaughter’s first birthday, and the start of Autumn’s Community Supported Agriculture shares weekly pickup. And now, Friday will be October 1.
Local leaf color is closer to 25% than to 50%, but it continues to progress nicely. Oaks are showing color more slowly than maples, but that’s typical of almost every autumn. The ridges along the St. Croix near Taylors Falls are still predominantly green, or at least they were Monday morning as we drove through.
Today on twitter I came across a line from a poem, actually, the whole poem [see below]. I’m tempted to have one particular line tattooed onto the back of my left arm, just up from my wrist. “Write poetry instead of doomscrolling.” If I don’t manage to tear myself away from doomscrolling over the current COVID-19 and Build Back Better crises currently underway, I may never. I’ve fallen away from my poetry writing over the past couple of years, as I have also fallen away from my fishing. In the process, I’ve accomplished little good and made myself less happy. I remember the old joke about the fellow who was pounding his head on a brick wall because it felt so good when he stopped. My turn to exercise self-care.
Time -- poem by R' Rachel Barenblat
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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