A Whiff of Fall in the Air

It was right chilly this morning. The leaves on the trees highest on the mountains are just starting to change colors. The air is more breathable. It's like welcoming home an old friend.


Thus begins September

I can't help thinking how lovely it is that this September started on a Wednesday. It just feels so synchronistic. Of course, this may have something to do with the Personification Synesthesia I enjoy. (And I do enjoy it, make no mistake.) September and Wednesday just feel the same. I won't take it personally if you don't understand that. Or look at me like I'm a little bit crazy.

I came across this little delight earlier:

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness." --Robert Frost

Is that not perfect?

I write the first drafts of my poems in pencil. I think it's because I want to make sure I have the "sense of wrong" perfect. And a first draft isn't perfect. But I don't erase. I cross out, and write above, and scribble arrows, and interject. I want to see the journey. When it's right, then I put it in pen.

I contacted an old friend today, and thought of others I'd like to say hello to. Told myself I would say hello. And I will. Soon.

This Wednesday also graced me with the strength to forgive, and a dear friend made me laugh.

Not a bad start to September.