...to change the color of the sky. To go from piercing blue to something matte-like and gray. Skies that I associate more with the Baltic states in December than with chipper Madison in October.
From the roof of my building:
Reading about people being sick (here and in a different setting, here) recalls the toughest times for me – when a kid was sick, or when I myself was, well, seriously ill. I don’t know when else I have felt so helplessly out of control as at those times. Not being keen on sending messages to the heavens (for one thing, they don’t respond and I don’t like unanswered messages), I am resigned at times of great vulnerability to imploring the medics to do their best. And luckily, for so many of us, they come through. So that our kids pull out of pickles and we ourselves continue to toddle along.
I’m thinking about all this today and about how easy it is for some, but not for others right now. Just in my own orbit of friends and beloved ones. Always there is someone who is coasting, flying without a care, and another who is having a tough spin through the day. And how good others can be at giving a boost to a sagging spirit.
Late this afternoon, I came across these guys – residents of my condo – playing a lively little tune. It made me smile. They’re strumming something I would associate with a fiddle and a barn. So, I’m passing on the image to any reader who needs a perky pick-me-up at the moment.
Think music. My previous post suggests Greece. I'm thinking Zorba, taking the arm of Basil in a dance on the island of Crete. Come on, click on those words. For the hell of it.