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Wednesday |
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They don't build them like this anymore. The Gables was erected in 1909 as a residential hotel, which included communal space such as a ballroom, billiard parlor, and this large side yard that many mistake for a public park. It's where residents socialize, air out their toddlers, and tend small vegetable gardens. My favorite place to sit is under the leafy dome of this one-tree bower. I watched the leaves come on slowly over spring, now all of a sudden they're going fast. This autumn has been sweet, a lack of rain means the leaves hang on longer, linger in loitering light, yellow, orange, red, and gold, it makes running around from job to job sort of a delight. Work makes me feel alive and part of it is it tunes me in to fleeting moments that can be stretched if you pause them in your mind. The changing seasons used to be something you could count on, predictable patterns, charming pagan rites. Today some grim climate news: http://400.350.org/ But GDP must be grown at all costs so everything accelerates, drill and spill, pollute and kill. I watched a lot of leaves fall and never once did one get back up on its limb. |