The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web. ~Pablo Picasso
a cold front finally pushed through and the air is cool and crisp windows are opened wide fall cleaning has commenced attacking the cabinets and closets major purging going on I feel the need to start anew!
Fall Song Another year gone, leaving everywhere its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves, the uneaten fruits crumbling damply in the shadows, unmattering back from the particular island of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere except underfoot, moldering in that black subterranean castle of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds and the wanderings of water. This I try to remember when…
the summer pinks are fading fast slowly replaced by the warm golds, oranges, reds and purples the change is inevitable and I’m at peace with that in a few days, it will be Labor Day weekend it’s been a great summer but it’s time to move on and I’m looking forward to an equally great autumn here in New England