There’s a lot of loose talk about summer coming to close, and there are signs, too, but really? No haste. I will say that seeing Halloween decorations in a store yesterday unhinged me.
No, I’d rather acknowledge the daily, ever changing trees in this neighborhood, and how each day on walks one can see subtle and not so subtle evidence of lush, green renewal.
It’s a productive time for me, unusually, and I’ve been maintaining a steady diet of reading two good books each week, writing a few articles for national publications, and I’ve even written 32 pages of my new book that I can stand to look at.
I’m not sure why it is that I’ve been so focused. Less gin? Less drama in my personal life? A sense, finally, of personal authority?
Even in the kitchen, focus is greater. Alacrity of prep, etc. Why, just last night in 20 minutes of prep there was a dry rubbed rack of pork ribs, gazpacho, homemade baked beans, and a salad of cherry tomatoes and fennel.
Meanwhile as Rilke, whose poems I translated ages ago for an undergraduate thesis, wrote:
My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.