Wednesday, October 12, 2011


"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower." (Camus)

I just read that on the Facebook page/wall/whatever of one of Darling Daughter's friends. Ahem, one of my friends, technically, as this very cool pal of DD's assented to my virtual friendship request.

She may even have friended me, come to think of it ...

So, of course, I commented on this lovely leaf-turning thought from Camus that seems apropos to, well, just about everything. I couldn't help myself, though I know that's rather embarrassing to Darling Daughter — for Mom (OMG!) to say something publicly in the Facebook realm.

In self defense, my comment was one word only, and I dare say it couldn't possibly be deemed offensive. Here's what I wrote: "Nice."

Unlike the weather, which just went from unimaginably nice to more appropriately cold, wet & gray. And the mood follows the weather, of course. It's almost scary the extent to which that's true.

Case in point: I took a quick trip down the hill, i.e., Historic Hill, this afternoon to batten down the hatches, though in truth no battening whatsoever took place. I did manually close the hatch (singular) on our very modest craft situated mid-harbor, where I was escorted via launch. And as we zoomed — aboard "Tango" not "Zoom" — back to shore with the summer-beaten Oldport flag fluttering to the point of being a total blur, I was struck as I'm always struck with thoughts along the lines of "Where did it go?"

You can take that any way you like.

All I know is that as I stood outside the gates watching the crowds livin' it up at Oktoberfest at the Yachting Center under impossibly clear & balmy conditions this past weekend, I felt ancient.

And when I stood chatting with a friend-of-a-friend straddling his bicycle at the corner of Bannister's Wharf as his young son bounced an oversized tennis ball just a bit too-close-for-comfort to America's Cup, I felt ancient.

When I asked this little tyke how many tickets the ball cost (he'd won it at the arcade, across the way), he said, "One hundred thousand tickets."

I was so impressed that after the little guy had climbed all by himself aboard a pedicab for a ride home (they'd be following Dad aboard his bike), I had to go check it out for myself.

And then I felt better ...