September 22, 2002


Wind, Full Moon, Sun

Full moon and wind through out the day.
The children run around trying to catch the dry leaves falling. The neighbor sweeping up pine needles. Still the sun is hot and the cool wind is nice. The yellow moon to night is a newly minted quarter.
I bought mocha. The woman behind the counter said two of her blender broke. “Must be the full moon,” She said.

I do love the fall season…it somehow is romantic with the lingering Indian summer. Does it mark the beginning of the year, I don’t know. Does it mark the end perhaps? I am content walking around in the warm wind, eating my toasted bagel and admiring the wooden bowl from the art festival. I picked on up to feel the weight. Even the stand, a small dark ring, is smoothly turned. I feel the craftsmanship in the ring design that encircled it. But I prefer the one with out. The smell of wood in fresh carries the essence of the forest in the hollow vessel. I catch a bit of vague conversation the artist is exchanging with his potential customer. Half of the fun is imagining the use for the bowl, where to place it in my nest. What I would put in it. But there are too many clutter in my place already. I walk away from the temptation, planning to circle back for it eventually. It was near closing time. I was saved by the bell.


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