Thursday, September 12, 2013

later than expected

The dainty achillea millefolium is having a late go of it. I planted three, from different nurseries and they are just now starting to unfurl their pretty little faces.

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As if saying -- now, you will notice me! Back then, I was just one of many.

Is it like walking away from a deal? Now, you'll notice me. Back then, I was just one of many...

I leave work later than expected. Classes end for me late and I am forcing myself to stay in my office after to write drafts of exam questions. It's better to do this when the material is fresh in your head.

I turn Rosie on to Park Street (one of several competing ways to go home) and as usual, the traffic kills the joy of being on her curvy saddle, so I turn away, to the east and track the quiet road by the secondary lake.

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It's really nice to have options in life.

The country roads though are perfect. They said storms might be passing through, but they were wrong. It is the kind of evening you dream of, come November or March. The soy fields are at their best. The sun is warm enough to ride with only a thin sweater. The air smells of a brilliant autumn.

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I make chili at home. Those tomatoes are spilling out on the counter -- I've frozen so many, but they keep coming, at various stages of ripeness and oftentimes I don't catch their perfect freezing moment -- this is the time to make chili.

Ed comes home from his bike ride. If you hurry, you'll see the sunset, he tells me.

I go out, but it's too late. Wisps of red cloud remain. Nothing more.

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Late, too late -- relative terms. Too late for one thing means a chance at something else. Would a view of a setting disc be any prettier than the above?

I turn toward the farmhouse, which to me, always looks beautiful, even in the growing darkness of a summer evening.

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The night is made restless by Isis. Up, down, meow, clear the stomach, (Isis!) meow, out, in, out again.

I try not to glare at him as he ambles over during breakfast. He is only partly to blame for sticking so forcefully to his preferences. Why shouldn't he make demands? We (Ed!) pander to his requests. He's merely competent at stating them in a convincing fashion.


We eat breakfast on another one of those glorious Fall days that you love for its strength of tone and color.


Skies of blue, lands of a dusty green. After walking the gardens, I come back to the porch. A good place to work, a good place to imagine what next year will be like.