a rose is a rose

After more than a year of uncertainty, medical concerns and treatments, things are much better and Ron's doctors are encouraged. So while he regroups before the next round of appointments in Albuquerque in early November, I am taking the opportunity to give myself a long sabbatical from caregiving and creative inertia and am heading east for an extended stay. This has been an exhausting year for everyone and since now there's an open window, I'm jumping out of it! (figuratively, not literally). My granddaughter's old Bert (he emerged from a dusty box when she and Dante visited recently) is sitting on the bookshelf and represents how I feel at this time.

But Bert usually keeps a positive attitude and, taking my cue, I'm packing and getting ready to leave on the midnight flight to New York tomorrow. Will see friends and family before heading to a hideaway. The challenge is packing (is there room for one more sweater?). And figuring out how to stuff one more ball of yarn into the smallish suitcase. I dislike huge heavy luggage and try to avoid it even if it means I have to leave lots of clothes behind and wear pretty much the same things for several weeks. Of course that means blacks and browns and items that can be dressed up or down. But the yarn. How much do I bring, where will I buy more if needed? For me color reigns supreme in sock yarns -- the wilder and brighter the better. I'm currently working on the second sock in this pair which I intend to keep for myself (unless someone looks longingly and asks nicely).

It's another wonderful Opal sock yarn from the Le Petit Prince collection (The Rose of the Little Prince) and it reminds me of summer and watermelon, sunsets and...roses.

Part of my escape involves continued work on my other GIOs (guilt inducing objects) also known as manuscripts. My publisher has given me three months to get a completed/edited manuscript to her (or else) and I intend to meet that challenge. Meanwhile, I look forward to autumn in the northeast. It's been years since I experienced that seasonal transition in the tri-state area. And it seems there's already a plan afoot to pick apples on Sunday with a 3 1/2 year old.

september again

A fine Sunday, playing with my new camera. It is a Panasonic Lumix G and even though I've had it for a few weeks and have experimented with settings (mostly auto and manual), I only began exploring the image effects today. So now I'm hooked on taking highly saturated (by choice) photos. In this season when the air seems naturally color-saturated, it's double the fun.

So many things to be sad, joyful and grateful for these days. The weather, health, the color yellow, love, family visits to NM, the camera, my upcoming visit back east with family and friends, followed by a long writing retreat to complete the final edits on the manuscript I planned to work on starting in January. The plan that was derailed due to life interfering. Funny how that happens. And not necessarily funny.

homage to Barbara...and then there were three...
I learned two days ago that an old friend unexpectedly passed. I'd been planning to see her in a couple of weeks in Connecticut. I knew she was ailing since I'd last seen her in July 2013, but she was holding her own at home and planning to buy a new wardrobe for her grandson's barmitzvah at the end of this month. When our first sons, now in their 50's were toddlers, they played together.  We were all newly married, living in the same garden apartment building in NY and became best friends. Our second sons (now in their late 40s) were best friends when we all lived in the same town in CT. Barbara inspired many of the paths I chose over the decades that altered my life's direction. But most of all I remember the endless summer days when she and I and three other women friends sat in a circle in our sand chairs on Bailey Beach in Rowayton and had our own consciousness raising sessions (otherwise known as bitching and dreaming) while our kids (a dozen in all) played in various configurations around us. Gayle, who moved to Taos around the time we did, and whom I've written about, was one of those women. She left us four years ago. Her daughter recalled those beach days and said: it was the original Sex in the City! How true. We were all young and attractive and it was the early 1970's after all! I intend to visit Bailey Beach when I'm back there. I'm sure the sand is still imprinted with the circle of our chairs.

Barbara Kiley Posner 1935-2014