Winter is Coming, Sooner than you Think. (I think.)
It is hard to complain about the first snow on the mountains when you wake up to this view. Honestly. It makes your heart kind of beat funny, especially when you are down on the beach in the scene, and looking up and out at it all. No wonder Thoreau said that in wildness is the preservation of the world. I'm afraid this season also has me alternating between crazy projects and standing there staring or chasing children and dogs up and down the beach. There are so many choices. Paint the porch floor? Build new garden beds? Hang a swing for Caroline? Write about making a better bombshell for an essay collection about women? Cut my hair? Pick blueberries? Play golf? Rewrite a novel? Read everything by Pam Houston to interview her next week in Anchorage -- Sept. 6--? What am I crazy? Yes and no. This is autumn in Alaska when the leaves aren't the only things that are scattered hither and yon. Now the sun is shining and it may not shine again until one cold day in February, and I cannot bear to do half of those things I know I should, since all I want to do is go play with my grand daughter on the beach with the dog she calls "Pawly" (as in Pearly without the r.) Is this what they mean by change of life?Or is this simply the change of season? Or, perhaps the change of season is a not so gentle reminder that time is passing and we better the most of it by changing our lives, just a little?