My upstairs neighbours made me a generous gift of time between “The First and Second Sleep” (http://115journals.com), 1:45-3:10, that would be in the A. and M. After an initial, “What the …..”, I settled down and pulled out journal 120. I had the luxury of writing a really long entry.
When I went out this morning, in my wellies, to take pictures of the autumn leaves in the rain, one of them apologized. “Everyone has the right to live a life,” I heard myself say. It did sound as if there had been a special circumstance -very late arrival of a house guest- but not all of me agreed with what I said.
Among other journal observations, I had blogged about how our attitude to fall has been changing in the last few weeks, from melancholy at the way summer was threatening to fade away (Summer’s Almost Gone:Jim Morrison and I Lament) to putting a positive spin on the season in Early October and a celebration of its colour A Tribute to Autumn, reblogged.
Today there is no possibility except acceptance. It’s over. We are bound toward the dark time. We aren’t going to be able to glue all those leaves back on the trees.