Summer's Last Gasp?
Here we are, one third of the way through October. The sun sets quite early, and it is still dark as I pull into the parking lot at work each morning. The northern part of the state has already had frost, and Columbus Day is in a few days. We on the coast actually had a snowstorm on Columbus Day once, so of course it feels wonderful but very odd that it is almost 80 degrees outside today. Not only that, but there is ALOT of humidity too, so it is even a bit uncomfortable. Hurricane Michael is just making landfall with wind speeds of 155 MPH, yet another monster storm in a series of massive storms, huge fires, drought and floods. My thoughts are with those who will be impacted, but how much longer can we go on averting our eyes and acting like all of this is normal?? We humans have a limited amount of time before there is no turning back, and making sure industry continues to make records profits should not be first in our line-up of concerns, should it?
I could go on about so much that I see as wrong in this country (and world) of ours. It has been an incredibly difficult time for me in these last few weeks, as it has for many women. My emotions remain raw, and the feelings of hopelessness continue to hover nearby. I try to find light where I can, even as the struggle continues.
On that note, I will leave you with this: our flowering friends seem to be just as confused as some of us are, re-blooming as if it is again spring. This while we decorate with pumpkins and see the glorious colors of autumn.
A sweet new flox flower near our entryway;
A day lily and whatever this purple one show their colors nearby;
Meanwhile, our fire bush has finally shown its true fall colors three years after we planted it. It hasn't grown much, and I feared that it would never live up to the expectations, but this year did not disappoint.
And our small pumpkin at the head of our driveway, there to remind us that it is indeed fall, with winter soon to follow.
I could go on about so much that I see as wrong in this country (and world) of ours. It has been an incredibly difficult time for me in these last few weeks, as it has for many women. My emotions remain raw, and the feelings of hopelessness continue to hover nearby. I try to find light where I can, even as the struggle continues.
On that note, I will leave you with this: our flowering friends seem to be just as confused as some of us are, re-blooming as if it is again spring. This while we decorate with pumpkins and see the glorious colors of autumn.
A sweet new flox flower near our entryway;
A day lily and whatever this purple one show their colors nearby;
Meanwhile, our fire bush has finally shown its true fall colors three years after we planted it. It hasn't grown much, and I feared that it would never live up to the expectations, but this year did not disappoint.
And our small pumpkin at the head of our driveway, there to remind us that it is indeed fall, with winter soon to follow.
I just read an interview with Cornel West. Here's an excerpt that makes sense to me: "In every moment of our existence there has been too much suffering, too much misery, too much hatred, too much contempt, too much envy, too much resentment. The question is: How do we break the cycle in our individual lives? You can break it with a grin, with a hug, with a piece of art, with a movement, with democratic practices and the hope that they are not crushed by authoritarian tendencies."
ReplyDeleteFor me, other than voting and trying to keep my legislators informed of my wishes, the big picture is too overwhelming, too much to even think about. All I can do are the little things, the local, day-to-day, one-to-one interactions.
P.S. The purple flowers are, I believe, Canterbury bells/bellflower.