“Blyth Autumn” (1963, oil on canvas)
by Robert Henderson
Two for Tuesday: October
Thursday evening. Partly cloudy and humid, 81 degrees.
Argh. Heat and humidity. What gives? I want it to feel like October, to feel like autumn.
Corey has spent the day working on the side yard again. All of the random trees have been cut down. He has mulched a huge pile from the wood, and today, he put up a make-shift fence until he has the funds to rent an auger and do all of the post holes. At some point he’s going to work on getting some of the stumps out or cut level, don’t know which, but removal requires a grinder, which costs money. Anyway, I know that he’s happy with what he’s accomplished. As am I.
We’re working on getting done the things we have to get done so that we can put this house on the market. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner the better. But, of course, everything takes money, so it’s here and there. It would be so nice if we had the funds to just take care of everything all at once, but alas. Not for now.
He goes back next week, and it’s been really nice to have him home for a full three weeks. With this set schedule, he’ll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and somehow we have to fit in holidays and a trip to Ohio to see the new baby. I long for easier days. Oh well . . . Baby tonight, which is always nice.
More later. Peace.
“Tree in the Sun” (1900, oil on canvas)
by Emil Claus
the leaves of autumn
sprinkle down the tinny
sound of little dyings
and skies sated
of ruddy sunsets
of roseate dawns
roil ceaselessly in
cobweb greys and turn
see the fall
a signal end to endings
a gruffish gesture alerting
those who will not be alarmed
that we begin to stop
in order to begin
~ Maya Angelou
“October Evening” (1912, pastel on paper)
by Léon Spilliaert
October, Mon Amour
The first dead leaves lie like sea urchins
browned on the asphalt drive.
It’s got to be October,
Slayer of living things, refrigerator of memory.
Next to the wilted lettuce, next to the Simone Weil,
Our lives are shoved in,
barely visible, but still unspoiled.
Our history is the history of the City of God.
What’s-to-Come is anybody’s guess.
Whatever has given you comfort,
Whatever has rested you,
Whatever untwisted your heart
is what you will leave behind.
~ Charles Wright
Music by Esthero, “Crash” (featuring Johan Johnson)