Undated - Small Pieces of Paper

I am grateful for ................
- the view from our living room windows. We are just high enough off the street that from a sitting position no housetops or chimneys are visible. One can see only the sky and the intervening sycamore trees in their various seasonal changes. Last Sunday we sat playing Fan-Tan with Pinky, listening to the late William Kapell play Rachmaninoff's Variations on a Theme by Paganini. The sky was the vivid October blue, though it was already early November, and against it the sycamore was brilliant in varied shades of yellow & orange. The color of this picture and the color of Kapell's playing brought tears to my eyes. I thought how unfortunate it was the such talent as he possessed should die with him. If only it could remain behind & transfer itself to some willing body such as mine. I wish it were possible for such a contract to be made.
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the silver sliver of the moon ...........
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the sun had set - when first I looked the western sky was a wash of lavender draining into gold - again I looked & it had become grey stained at the horizon with a soft orange glow.
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I finished book 1 of Stone's biography of Van Gogh Lust for Life and closed the book with a thought of finality, that if nothing else occurred between the two brothers, that moment when Theo & Vincent prepared to leave The Borinage was enough. The love & understanding, the deep closeness expressed in that closing moment between them was worth more ----
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What is wrong with me? I determine to be joyful and grateful because of the beautiful things I see. I look up high and feel joy at seeing tiny ripples of clouds very high up against the blue of the sky. But my next feeling is an ache and I mourn because I am not near to the sand that ripples from the gentle stroke of the tide! The ripples that these precious clouds bring to mind.
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the star-strewn, sparkled, (and) cloud-swept sky ----- smell of mint
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The freshness of the approaching spring was reflected in the new moss growing in the cracks of the sidewalk - a vivid, clear green acquainted with the snow and rain that had left last years' grass faded and dull.
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A crowd of crows flew up at my approach and fluttered noisily around until I had passed.
A crowd of crows flew up at my approach and fluttered noisily around until I had gone.
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We had heard that the ginkos lost their leaves all at once so we watched carefully the double row outside our window. They were almost wholly yellow and every passing breeze sent to the ground a shower of golden coins.
(continued)
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Walking to work each morning was a wonderful chance (opportunity) to see (watch) the changes in (progress of) the season as fall was born & progressed and waned in such brief space of time. Indian summer arrived Oct. 22nd and stayed too short a time. I remember the phrase I read on a calendar somewhere "Oh, Autumn, be less beautiful or be less brief."
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I walked across campus and past the chapel. A whirr of wings made me turn to see a swell of pigeon wings banking against the turrets of the chapel, grey and bright white in the morning sun.
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Walking across the large empty lot where the baseball diamonds were laid, on the corner of Big Bend & Forsyth, was like being in a world apart. The only tie with others was the hum & stop & start of cars at the corner light, and even this I could eliminate from my thoughts. From the woods nearby came a chorus of bird sound, chirps, cheeps & twitters. The early sun was soft & buttery and the trees were vivid.
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I wanted to tell him about the play I had seen, how it made me feel, the hope & support of my dreams it projected, about the tears it brought to my eyes that I had to painfully suppress. But I knew with a certainty that if I tried the words I would utter would come forth dry and uninspired, strained and utterly unexpressive. And so I kept my thoughts to myself.
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a magical realm of color.
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the oaks fairly afire with flame like reds & oranges
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the dripping molten gold of the elms
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the dangling, quivering coins of the cottonwood
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the brilliant pagoda-like ginkos
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the pale, limp yellow leaves of the maple incontrast to the vigorous pinks & yellows of the Norway Sugar Maple
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the sweet sweet gum clothed with colored stars
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and after all this heat and fire the cool welcome of the blue spruce and the deep green of the pine
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the vivid October sky intensified these colors as a fan intensifies a flame