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Well, maybe the beauty of autumn trees is not so little.  The trees around here turn colors and lose their leaves over the course of at least a month, and since the ones along the roads are all planted rather than native, it tends to go street by street (since each street has trees of the same age and species on it). This means that, while the trees on the street in from of where I live have lost a lot of their leaves, I’m frequently getting the experience of turning into a different street and seeing a glory of red and yellow trees at the peak of their fall majesty – this morning it was all against a pink sunrise sky. Every time it happens I try to just … I don’t know, relax into the beauty and imprint it in memory, because fall is so evanescent. I know it will happen again next year and this year, unlike some past ones, I know that we will be in the same place next year (kinea hora, insha’allah) but still, next year’s leaves are a long time away. I wonder how often in later life AE Houseman was tempted to rewrite A Shropshire Lad:

And since to look at trees aflame
Fifty springs are little time,
Up to the woodlands I will fly
To see the maples hung with fire.

My big epiphany the other day was as mundane as it could be: the cafeteria here has peanut butter and jelly. I knew that, but hadn’t thought of it. The one nearest me has a station where you can make your own sandwiches, but the bread isn’t as good as in the other cafeteria, which has a staffed deli station – not the good crusty kind and often a little stale. But for PB&J I don’t care about that – even plain white bread is fine. Yesterday I had a choir rehearsal starting at 11:30, dollowed immediately by a critical meeting that I had to run. At around 11 I realized that if I were going to have lunch at all I needed to have it right away, I didn’t really have time to get anything that would take long to make or eat, didn’t want anything that would disagree with me an hour later (I have IBS, so this covers more things than you would think) or anything too heavy. Bonus for anything that I could eat half of and come back to after the meeting. Peanut butter and jelly to the rescue! THis isn’t an uncommon scenario, so I foresee a lot of it in my future.

This morning on the (satellite) radio I heard a song called The Call of the Wrecking Ball, by a group called The Knitters, about a guy who stomps on chickens. I have had my dose of surreality for the day.

Ted’s off today to the Netherlands on business, but I don’t think I’ll have trouble keeping busy this weekend. I have a party tomorrow night and a sweater I need to finish before then if I want to wear it to the party. (It’s the one I steeked. I just have to finish knitting the second placket and weave in the ends to wear it; blocking, adding buttons, and covering the shorn ends with a ribbon can wait.) I also need to erg 17km or more over the two days, go grocery shopping, probably do some work I haven’t had time for this week, and maybe some other shopping errands. I might go downtown to Title Nine’s big annual sale, though then again I have too many clothes and shouldn’t add more without getting rid of some I don’t wear first.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

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