autumn
January 2009 
Grateful for Fall
Posted on Oct 30th, 2008
by 
Andrei
Andrei
The fall has slipped in, and without judgment it is perfect and timely. Rain coming and shorter days, energy turning inward resting and percolating sweet saps, teeming damp leaves piling on top of one another, my thoughts fall between them.
It is easier to be kind, knowing the gentleness of this season, releases from reliance on outward warmth and the pulling of internal fires. Warming your hands at your own souls fire seeming both welcome and solitary. A cup of tea suddenly has nostalgic meaning again getting caught up in the magic of old ideal scenes.
As a human it is easy to accuse the change as a mood, as a failing of optimisms fortitude, but it is simply alike all natural things with cycles and rhythms that call for a time for falling and mulching ones own nature.
These things are my mulch – a bonfire on a cold southern California beach with college friends – ideas of artistic expression with power that seemed eternal. A line of a poem felt from a god, a star’s light like a muse. A café in Calle France – rain falling and running in broken sheets off the awning, a delicate cup of dark roasted coffee and a Gitanes cigarette. Zoe doing ancient Greek flash cards with me at another café. Lot’s of cafes, lots of cups of coffee, lots of cigarettes, savory meals, the soft orange glow of close conversation about the deeper things that slowly squeeze at the heart. Love, melancholy, old gothic buildings, Kafka, oil paints on a sweater, the smell of pipe tobacco, the sound of a walk alone or in silence with someone close. A whisper for time to slow, for growth to rest in some hidden process unknown to all but the most observant and to the truly wild things.
These things are fall to me.
It is easier to be kind, knowing the gentleness of this season, releases from reliance on outward warmth and the pulling of internal fires. Warming your hands at your own souls fire seeming both welcome and solitary. A cup of tea suddenly has nostalgic meaning again getting caught up in the magic of old ideal scenes.
As a human it is easy to accuse the change as a mood, as a failing of optimisms fortitude, but it is simply alike all natural things with cycles and rhythms that call for a time for falling and mulching ones own nature.
These things are my mulch – a bonfire on a cold southern California beach with college friends – ideas of artistic expression with power that seemed eternal. A line of a poem felt from a god, a star’s light like a muse. A café in Calle France – rain falling and running in broken sheets off the awning, a delicate cup of dark roasted coffee and a Gitanes cigarette. Zoe doing ancient Greek flash cards with me at another café. Lot’s of cafes, lots of cups of coffee, lots of cigarettes, savory meals, the soft orange glow of close conversation about the deeper things that slowly squeeze at the heart. Love, melancholy, old gothic buildings, Kafka, oil paints on a sweater, the smell of pipe tobacco, the sound of a walk alone or in silence with someone close. A whisper for time to slow, for growth to rest in some hidden process unknown to all but the most observant and to the truly wild things.
These things are fall to me.
AlmadenFogOak
Access: Public
Wow! You writing is so full of warmth and feeling.
You should gather up your best and publish them.
The picture is incredible too. Did you take it?
Where is this tree? Trees are so precious.
They breath out and we breath in.
We’re are a good example of being connected.
We can’t live with out each ohter.
Thank you for posting.
Looking forward to reading more.