November 05, 2003

Indian Summer

It was 79 degrees F again yesterday! I spoke on the phone with Tom, a friend who lives in Rehoboth Beach, De. Tom’s grandson and granddaughter went to the beach swimming - in November! It was so cold during the first two weeks of October, and it has been as though November flip-flopped with October.

Well, it’s supposed to get colder and colder each day during the rest of this week. Bl-a-a-a-a-gh!

Ruth Called Yesterday

No apology of course. She still thinks she did nothing wrong when she damaged my drawings of Scott Merritt.

I Go for a Drive

I went for a drive by myself yesterday because I was feeling down. I’m usually driving other residents from THE BIG NEEDLE to doctor appointments or shopping. I drove to the Southern part of the county, near the Susquehanna River. There, crossing a small tributary of the river is a covered bridge. It’s located at the bottom of a twisting country road that drops down a hill at a hair raising incline. After one last sudden turn, the bridge and stream are visible. It’s Pequea Creek, and it gurgles over falls and rapids beneath a 200 year old canopy of oak and maple forest. During the summer months people go swimming in the rapids there because you can be shot through the falls into pools of cool green transparent water. It’s a beautiful spot.

When I arrived at the creek yesterday, I got out of my car and walked carefully back into the woods, beside the creek. The sound of the rapids, birds singing, crickets whirring relaxed me. I was pleased that I am still agile enough to negotiate the rocky path into the woods despite my age. I found a big rock next to the water and sat - perhaps for an hour - I’m not sure. I lost track of time. I’m sure the crickets were singing their swan song, and most of the birds will be heading South soon as well.

I know that I am fortunate to be alive and as well as I am, but...

I couldn’t help thinking about how lonely I am sometimes. So many of my friends are gone, most importantly my loves, Peter and Rebecca.

Ah, Fall the season of old age heralds the coming of winter, the season of death.

And, this horrible war that is not a war - more of our children and grandchildren's deaths accruing every day - is bringing me lower and lower!

Depressing notes for a depressed old man.


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The leaf image in this entry was taken from "" Gateway Mountain, a Gated Community in Western South Carolina.

Take a look at:

Mark Harden’s Artchive. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s the best place to find excellent images of artist’s works on the WWW.

Gay Artist’s Galleries

John Giuffre’s blog Thoughts From A Collapsed Brain


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