I’ve started a few posts over the past couple week, but I can’t seem to finish them. My body and psyche are going through a seasonal jet lag—I can’t figure out what month it is, or truly what season. For the past 40 years, I’ve been living in places where the end of October means cold—really cold. Leaves shrivel up, there is no more green to be seen, and there sure aren’t any flowers blooming. The first of November means it is time to hunker down, eat some stew, make peace with the coming winter. Instead, every day as I walk with the dogs I see new flowers blooming along the trail, the birds are chattier than ever, and the smell of orange blossoms, mint, and jasmine fill the air. My internal rhythms are struggling to make sense of it all. The Greeks assure me that winter is coming, warning me that it is going to get cold—we’ll see. In the meantime, I am going to soak up the smell of orange blossoms and enjoy the daily bounty of fresh veggies from the garden. Here’s a few pictures from yesterday’s walk.
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Beautiful day