any allegory

Seasons change slowly and quickly here. Slowly because every day feels like it will stay that way forever, quickly because one day we awaken to a new world. I can barely wrap my mind around the end of August. Wasn't it just yesterday I wrote about the beginning of my birthday month? My first time of life. It was a difficult month and a wonderful month -- the way things seem to be going for a lot of people these days. The flowers on the deck are already dying. Hot days, cold nights, no rain, too much rain, one more green tomato to ripen (I won't pick it until it turns red and if it doesn't make it before the cold sets in, so be it). I gave myself a new pedicure today. Honeymoon Red. Like the color Old Rose wore on her toenails in the movie Titanic. When I'm in my 80's (if I make it) my toenails will be honeymoon red. One is never too old for that.

New yarn came in today. That wonderful Zealana AIR in a lovely faded denim blue. I will wear the hand warmers I cast on as soon as I got home. Will wear them next time I journey east (in early spring) or west (I'm always cold in San Francisco at any time of year).  Dusk begins to fall. I've managed to put together a sheaf of poems I've been asked to submit and I hope for the best.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
       ( Seamus Heaney, who died today at age 74)