Thursday, October 14, 2004


Yesterday. I stand at the end of the drive-way, in my boxer shorts and t-shirt, holding a leash, waiting on Franklin. Hurry up, I say. Towards the east, in the sky, there is a garish wall of oranges and pinks, the opening light of sunrise, framed by the trees on either side of the street.

The maple trees are true to the season. They have gracefully mixed their greens and oranges and yellows with enough drama to stop one from merely walking by, to force one to look at them in their intricate swatches of autumn color.

Hurry up, I say again. He does not hurry. There is scent of mole, and he is sniffing the lambs ear and the lower branches of the beautyberries, hanging with its load of purple berries. He moves slowly, following the scent.

I pick up the newspaper. Nobody sees me. I coax him inside. No walk. Not enough time. Early meeting at work.

The drive to work cheers me up. Despite the constant drought, the colors begin rolling out. I try not to look at the hard ground, or the stressed plants. The trees call attention to themselves. I look.

Today. The sky, so barren of moisture since late August - a very wet August - is now filled with the tiny dots of mist, as if a pointillist were illustrating the air by putting dot after dot of gentle drizzle. It is cooler, and wet. The moisture continues all day and into the night. The ground begins to feel soft, as it should in fall.

I relax. It is as if someone had been holding their breath beyond a normal period. Fall needs cool air and moisture.


avril said...

I love your writing so much. Even the most mundane objects or actions come to life under your "pen." The common transformed into art. So glad to have found your blog.

Don said...

Thanks, Avril. No pen, just fingers pecking out on a keyboard. I should be more thoughtful in my editing and spelling, but find that I knock out a thought and move on.

I justify this by thinking of the blog as a small series of emails or letters to friends. Glad you stop by here.

Anonymous said...

What beautiful writing. Just one of the many reasons I love this man so much. -- Partner