Autumn arrived some time last month, but only now has settled in, like a cat kneading into a carpet by the hearthside.
Last night my husband and I walked around the Lower East Side – it was dark so I didn’t take any pictures, though we came across a wonderful tiny Botanical Garden, jammed between the buildings: http://www.6bc.org/.
It was overblown with tired plants gone to seed, but had an atmosphere of deep peacefulness. An arbour of vines, a koi pond and waterfall, and best of all, a small, slightly crooked two-level, balconied house in the midst of things, stocked with bistro tables, books, porch, a comfortable chair: imagine living in that little house, looking out every morning on the calmest place while you sipped your tea, water heated on a hot plate. Showering might perhaps be a problem, but we didn’t check downstairs. I like to think there is a jacuzzi and perhaps a neat galley kitchen in there. At any rate, I have decided Aida needs to inhabit this space somehow, either having it for her Botanics, or recreating it in New Mexico.
Today brought mists and a papering of yellow leaves down the street I live on. I saw my breath for the first time today – and thought I should be thankful that the city was finally being kind. Neither scorching nor bone-brittle cold, clarity was possible, and spurred me to look on what I’ve been doing with my work lately. It seems in this blog that I’m always reflecting on the arrangements of words, but I don’t much, day-to-day.
I’m going to start allowing myself more time to write less. I’m going to let the situations mull themselves over before attempting solutions. I am going to investigate the texture of things under strong clear light. Resolutions…but most of all I’m going to enjoy this latest, best season here, before the window closes up again.