Saturday, November 12, 2011

Crisp and Clear Saturday


7:02
I was awake at 4:00, then 5:00, then finally got up at 6:20, to a pink sky, as the sun slowly tries to peak out of the clouds over Tom's Point.  It looks like a great day, lots of sun, a good day for a hike somewhere though we are going to the What's New Fair at Jamestown Community College, sponsored by the local AAUW chapter, in support of women's scholarships.  There will be over 65 venders there, supposedly with lots of interesting wares for Christmas.  An entry fee of three dollars a person supports the scholarships. We'll see.  I hope it's not more of the same venders we saw at the Busti Apple Festival in September.  Schotsky would be an understatement to describe it.  Kitsch would be fine art.

7:15
Yesterday, we took our hike early in the morning (the pictures I put on yesterday's blog), and later in the day, we walked in the CI, went to the library, picked up Olive Kitteridge, and came home to a sunset and a few mannies, the good life.  I have started reading, finally, EXTREMELY LOUD & INCREDIBLY LOUD by Jonathan Foer, a book I have picked up a couple of times, read the first page, and put it down.  Well, I kept reading yesterday and for whatever reason, I was ready to read it and so far, I love it (rest easy Patsi!). It's narrated by a precocious nine year old, Oskar Schell and either you like him or you don't and put down the book.  Finally, I have something to read that will keep me coming back to it during the day.

Below is a  poem called "The White" from today's The Writer's Almanac which captures perfectly the last few weeks here at the lake, waiting for the first snow.


7:05

The White

by Patricia Hampl
These are the moments
before snow, whole weeks before.
The rehearsals of milky November,
cloud constructions
when a warm day
lowers a drift of light
through the leafless angles
of the trees lining the streets.
Green is gone,
gold is gone.
The blue sky is
the clairvoyance of snow.
There is night
and a moon
but these facts
force the hand of the season:
from that black sky
the real and cold white
will begin to emerge.





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