On this Saturday morning there is a damp coolness in the air. The skinny birch trees in my backyard are almost naked of their yellow leaves. The only spots of color are from the Miami Pink bougainvillea climbing up the stucco walls towards my Talavera sun goddess mask. Only in Southern California can you have bouginvillea plants alive in late autumn. Well, maybe Florida too.
This poem, by Frank de Jesus Acosta, was on my Facebook feed this morning. Frank shares his poetry with those who subscribe to his Facebook. On many mornings I find that his words resonant with me, lift me up, make me pause and think, and overall contribute to my day. Thank you Frank.
On the way home from the doctor’s office I passed a field of pumpkins. I slowed my car and watched children run ahead of their parents and tumble over hay bales on their way to the middle of the field. The scene stimulated images of my own children and our annual pumpkin patch outings-long ago. When I arrived home I jotted down my memories. Later I found this quote from Anne of Green Gables. A perfect pairing.