Mile after mile of gravel roads.
So much of my childhood spent on those rutted paths going somewhere, coming home.
So much stone swallowed by the earth.
The silence of centuries
settles in amid these giant redwoods.
Nothing to say to us,
their limbs whisper high overhead.
And, later, when we yell
a friend’s name who has wandered,
our voices feel choked off
by these solitary sentinels of the earth.
Why should they speak to us?
Such weak creatures without roots.
… that late afternoon light glowing through the last leaves still hanging.
Most trees have lost all their leaves, so those that still cling to the branches seem the most jubilant — the ones that won’t give up.
Finding this bridge of leaves over a street in Calistoga, California, was a special treat!
And, oh, how the stemware sparkles,
the vineyards cling to gold and russet
and wisps of fog give way to blue sky.
Who could ask for a better place
to escape a world gone mad and made mad
by thoughtless and careless promises?
We toast more in one day than in one year
and wish and hope and pray for a world
that’s shattering like glass.
When (if) I am 97 years old, I want to paint and listen to jazz and buy a new iPhone and Google.
When (if) I am 97 years old, I want to laugh and tell stories and love life.
I want to be Al. Check out this video. He was a joy to meet.
The “shiny” negative space in this photo imitates the leaves. That’s why I love this one.
This photo wasn’t from this fall. We had a dry summer and it seemed that the leaves were dull and boring compared to other years. I did enjoy one beautiful weekend in Connecticut with a group of friends from my hometown. We stayed at my daughter’s home for a long weekend, and the weather was perfect. We visited wineries and Newport and the beach and the casino and an apple festival. The leaves in CT were at their peak and surprised us all along Rte. 2 south of Hartford. We had a wonderful time, but it was over before I knew it. And I don’t think I thanked them enough for coming.