The morning began with beautiful sun and parting clouds, but we already knew, from the day before, what to expect to hear on the radio. Our beloved Paris under attack. Shock. Fear. Anger. Mourning. The pieces don't fit together -- violence and death and fear and loss in one place I love, and in another sunshine, blue skies, and a happy dog running. I remember the same feeling from the fateful September 11 fourteen years ago: another beautiful morning that came with very, very bad news.
I don't know where to look. We human beings want so much for the world to make sense. Sometimes, though, it just doesn't. It certainly does not make sense to me today. I am still grateful for the good pieces -- just wish -- .
Frost signals a turn in the season, from early autumn color to the cold fall that presages winter, but on a morning of blindingly bright sunshine the beauty of frost eclipses its message. More ephemeral than summer blossoms or winter snowflakes, it must be captured quickly in the space between sunrise and its inevitable melting away in the light.
The sketchiness of the popples' remaining yellow against the dark of the evergreens was like a dance. Many orchards are still bright, as trees in the woods woods have gone bare, their leaves stripped off by high winds. What will we see when the orchard boughs are bare? The massed color of their bark, in clouds of muted purple.
"Where are the horses?" I cried in impatience and frustration. Then -- "Stop! Turn right!" I'd spied them from a distance.
The curiosity of these massive, beautiful animals is part of their charm, along with their soft, warm noses and sweet, tickly whiskers.
Along with nobility, generosity, and unself-conscious beauty, these two also had friendly, confident and slightly teasing personalities. What glorious animals! What a perfect encounter for a beautiful fall day!