THE YELLOW LEAF
My husband gave me some advice today about blogging. "Set up a consistent schedule so you are constantly working your writing muscles." Commitment it is.
And to increase my followers, I am offering a prize. If any of my readers can get two people to follow me, I will write you a poem on any subject you want. Who's in?
Sunday routines are about to change with the changing of the seasons. Today was our last Farmer's Market, for example. As I walked my dog to the Market I sensed that this might be the last time I can walk him without wearing a hat. Cyclers, baby strollers, church-goers and dog walkers packed my neighborhood streets this morning. All I could picture was an oil painting. The trees on Chicago's South Side are spectacular. Marigold, tangerine, cranberry, and blush leaves blanket the streets, roofs, and brick of all the houses, smashed into an oily Slip-n-Slide from yesterday's biblical rainstorm. I thought of how fun it must be to know how to work a real camera to capture the seasons.
When the poets use autumn to represent old age and approaching death, do they view it as beautiful? They must. Shakespeare wrote about Macbeth's impending death, "the yellow leaf," and I never took that to symbolize something beautiful. But looking at the trees today, how could you not?
I then concluded that I will take up photography in my old age. For now, my iPhone 7 will do.
"Autumn . . . the year's last, loveliest smile." --William Cullen Bryant
And to increase my followers, I am offering a prize. If any of my readers can get two people to follow me, I will write you a poem on any subject you want. Who's in?
Sunday routines are about to change with the changing of the seasons. Today was our last Farmer's Market, for example. As I walked my dog to the Market I sensed that this might be the last time I can walk him without wearing a hat. Cyclers, baby strollers, church-goers and dog walkers packed my neighborhood streets this morning. All I could picture was an oil painting. The trees on Chicago's South Side are spectacular. Marigold, tangerine, cranberry, and blush leaves blanket the streets, roofs, and brick of all the houses, smashed into an oily Slip-n-Slide from yesterday's biblical rainstorm. I thought of how fun it must be to know how to work a real camera to capture the seasons.
When the poets use autumn to represent old age and approaching death, do they view it as beautiful? They must. Shakespeare wrote about Macbeth's impending death, "the yellow leaf," and I never took that to symbolize something beautiful. But looking at the trees today, how could you not?
I then concluded that I will take up photography in my old age. For now, my iPhone 7 will do.
"Autumn . . . the year's last, loveliest smile." --William Cullen Bryant
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