And just so I'll sound all literary, here's Carl Sandberg on fall, borrowed from poetry.about.com.
Autumn Movement by Carl Sandberg
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
and the old things go, not one lasts.
Have a great weekend.
1 comment:
I'm reading your blog posts backward today, but I'm sensing a theme with the last two -- change. In the words of one of my favorite kids songs -- "Nothing stays the same. Everything can change." And sometimes I do think a picture is worth a thousand years. A great photo or painting can be like a wonderful campfire or summer storm. I can just get lost in it.
Here's to 50-something!
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