I was told by someone who works with (but not for) the city that there are four seasons here: almost winter, winter, still winter, and construction.
This road is part of my normal commute. I won’t be driving it until the work is completed this fall.
On Saturday, people of all ages marched and protested against gun violence.
Show me what democracy looks like.
This is what democracy looks like!
Don’t let anyone look down on you for being young. Instead, make your speech, behavior, love, faith, and purity an example for other believers.
1 Timothy 4:12 (NIV)
My hope for the future shines brighter because of “kids these days.” I confess to missing the speeches at the park downtown because I waited to leave my house until the livestreaming of the rally in Washington, D.C. had finished. I’m glad I was able to hear the incredibly moving speeches given there but wish I could have also heard our local teen leaders speaking out. There was an estimated 5,000 people who rallied and marched, and I was proud to be one of them.
November is coming.
It snows and thaws,
snows and thaws,
snows and thaws.
My go-to website for news is the BBC [dot com] and I’ve been following the flooding in Paris with a mix of horror and fascination. Whenever the Seine River floods, I worry over L’Orangerie and Monet’s Water Lilies in the round being swamped.
Tonight there is a warm wind blowing and when The Scout returned from a walk, he said it felt like mid-March. The wind arrived with plenty of rain to swell our river, although being “still January” and normally cold with a decent snowpack on the mountains, we don’t have to worry about flooding here… yet.
Photo of mural taken on a sunny fall day last year.
My friend ~A~ and I marched this afternoon. Our city had its march on Sunday, on the one-year anniversary of the 2017 Women’s March. There were people of all ages, families spanning generations, males and females. There were strollers and walkers and wheelchairs.
Since we were lucky enough to be near the front of the parade of marchers, we were able to station ourselves near the end and take photos after we were finished marching. I was lucky enough to have such a good friend who made my sign for me; I gave her the words and she took care of the artistic part.
I didn’t march last year; I’d scheduled that day to visit our grandson. This year, we’d just seen them 2 weeks ago and it was past time for me to put my body and voice where I might be seen and heard because silence is not golden. Love trumps hate, and I choose to persistantly stand on the side of love.
My feet hurt tonight but it was worth it.
On my way to work one day last month, I was stunned by the view of fall foliage looking toward downtown.
I knew immediately where I would go the next chance I had a few free hours with my camera — and then I cleared my schedule for the next afternoon.
There are a few places around town that still have streetcar tracks visible. This part of the West Central Neighborhood includes Doyle’s Ice Cream Parlor which I’ve blogged about before. It’s been 28 years since I lived in this neighborhood but I remembered the amazing canopy of leaves and the streetcar tracks.
The sun was alternately shining through and obscured by the clouds.
I had to drive in circles for a while, but I found what I was looking for — before the incoming storm brought wind and rain enough to bring down the leaves.
This was our view on Monday morning.
We were not prepared.
We received a few inches of snow on Sunday. It seems like a cruel trade for that extra hour of sleep. I’m currently vehicle-less while the hardworking minivan is getting winter shoes put on her feet. For the fun of mixing metaphors, I suspect she’s waiting in a long line at the farrier today — we aren’t the only ones caught off-guard.
There will be no NaBloPoMo happening here. If they scheduled it for February, then I would have a decent chance of being able to participate, but work plus family in November is simply too busy.
I’ll try to post more later this week.
Puddleglum is C.S. Lewis’ Eyeore.
I’m trying hard to see beauty in the world today, but my heart is heavy and my mind finds it all rather futile. Fall is my favorite season, yet so far all I see is death and destruction… and the stubborn will of some to keep going despite the odds, to find beauty, to bloom where they are planted and to do so in adverse conditions.
Keep championing the cause for the downtrodden. Give hope to those who have no hope. The one who receives your encouragement might be struggling more than you know.
Even Eyeore and Puddleglum need a pep talk now and then.
How do you describe
the sound a raindrop makes
as it filters through the leaves
from the sky to thirsty ground
after 80 days without moisture?
The musical notes
of a babbling brook in the gutter
on the roof (almost steady)
like the snare drums
of a 6th grade band
And the hollow emptiness
when those sounds slow to stillness
in the pre-dawn quiet
until all you hear
is the clock (tick, tock) calling