Which according to the French, or more specifically the male cultural and linguistic superstructure, is a description of orgasm. But I claim it as the point at which we lose electrical power when Sandy does its damage. So, blog while the blogging is possible, I say.
I missed posting Saturday, a combination of study, grappling with the post that follows this one, and simply being outside to register all the various colors of fall here in the Elm City. In the backyard where I can see them are a few Burning Bushes, an inconspicuous evergreen that peacocks in the fall and produces gold, red, almost sienna-like leaves. This year, in this fall so mild that the heat is off more than it is on, our burning bush has produced hot pink leaves. (This is where a savvy blogger would insert a picture. The picture of our hot pink deck chairs alongside the bushes. Yep, that's what a savvy blogger would do. This blogger says Hey! Use your imagination!!)
Fall: meals full of roasts, root vegetables, heavier wines and elegaic music. Friday we went to SCSU's Garner Auditorium for Music Haven's fall student concert and potluck. There is something magical when a child falls in love with an instrument as I did when I fell in love with the violin at 9. The stage was decorated with tiny cellos, violins and violas (violi?), and basses that begged for the tallest kid with the longest fingers to play. And all the gifts that come from the effort -- the love of music, the self-discipline, the reward (applause and admiration) for monumental effort, the poise that comes from performing, and the entree into new worlds -- all those gifts were on display.
The university is closed today and tomorrow (as it was when Irene happened). It is an example of unearned grace since I'd be taking a quiz this afternoon if the university was open. So, Sandy has bought me more time to study, to write, to do what I can while I still have juice.
I missed posting Saturday, a combination of study, grappling with the post that follows this one, and simply being outside to register all the various colors of fall here in the Elm City. In the backyard where I can see them are a few Burning Bushes, an inconspicuous evergreen that peacocks in the fall and produces gold, red, almost sienna-like leaves. This year, in this fall so mild that the heat is off more than it is on, our burning bush has produced hot pink leaves. (This is where a savvy blogger would insert a picture. The picture of our hot pink deck chairs alongside the bushes. Yep, that's what a savvy blogger would do. This blogger says Hey! Use your imagination!!)
Fall: meals full of roasts, root vegetables, heavier wines and elegaic music. Friday we went to SCSU's Garner Auditorium for Music Haven's fall student concert and potluck. There is something magical when a child falls in love with an instrument as I did when I fell in love with the violin at 9. The stage was decorated with tiny cellos, violins and violas (violi?), and basses that begged for the tallest kid with the longest fingers to play. And all the gifts that come from the effort -- the love of music, the self-discipline, the reward (applause and admiration) for monumental effort, the poise that comes from performing, and the entree into new worlds -- all those gifts were on display.
The university is closed today and tomorrow (as it was when Irene happened). It is an example of unearned grace since I'd be taking a quiz this afternoon if the university was open. So, Sandy has bought me more time to study, to write, to do what I can while I still have juice.
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