September 21, 2008

Autumn Begins

I haven't been paying attention; the tips of the maple trees have turned pink, and I'm wondering when it happened.

I should have seen it coming, having walked every day last week. But my eyes were on soccer fields and sidewalks and artificial turf, or my chin was tilted downward while my thoughts went everywhere: on the frightening state of publishing and the exit of editors -- one of them from a terrific house considering my historical novel.

My thoughts are scattered. My foots hurts. My oldest daughter is getting married and my youngest just got a dog (they named him "Country" and I've fallen in love; now I want one too). There's a lot to look forward to. And much to think about.

I want to witness the season in all its splendor, inhale the autumn air. I want to crunch acorns beneath my feet and arrange pumpkins on the porch. I want to sip hot cider from a paper cup, and eat a sugar doughnut. I want to see it all, hear it all, taste it all. I don't want to miss a thing.

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