FALL MAKES me want to do something. It puts a spring into my step.
In just the last few days, the presence of autumn has become more obvious. Leaves fallen from the peach tree litter the Jesus Patio, and the summertime dawn temperature of 60 has plummeted to 58.
So, this morning, with that spring in my step, I cast procrastination aside and decided to do something. First, I did what I do every Saturday morning, and that’s water the potted plants in the veranda.*
Dave Brubeck played Take Five through the living room window.
I cleaned the psychedelic ceramic birdbath and changed the water. I swept the Honda carport but not the Nissan’s.
I stuck my head into the bakery workshop and said hi to my child bride, baking in a cloud of flour. It smelled good in there.
I walked upstairs and oiled the squeaky parts of the gym set.
Fall has always been my favorite season. When I lived in Dixie, it was as far as you could get from the next summer swelter. There is also a certain sadness — a tristeza — involved, but a sweet sort.
In spite of that, fall holds optimism for me. It inspires hope, and that’s always a good thing. It’s fall, not spring, that reminds me of love.
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* I am reading my third excellent book in a row about India by William Dalrymple. There are lots of verandas in India, and I like the word. Plus, it applies to what we have here at the Hacienda. So veranda will replace the old “downstairs terraza.” The upstairs terraza will remain a terraza because it is not a veranda. It’s mostly uncovered.