Fog, harvest, and Rilke...

Foggy, as has become the usual case. And again, in my brain and in the landscape outside the window. No bear activity last night, which is nice. 

Today, when it warms up, and dries a bit, I'll attempt to get some of the back yard mowed. Attempt is the word: I have bad feet and knees, and the activity is going to be daunting. The grass is unruly, and I will likely be living on pain killers for a few days. But it must be done, not for purely aesthetic reasons, but to keep ticks and so on at bay. To pay is a luxury we can't manage right now, and the grass will not wait any longer. Unless I can't do it, and then it'll be moot. 

Last evening, G and I went to dinner with a poet friend of mine, someone I have known for a whole lot of years. It was super nice to get out, to sit in the sunshine, and to talk about a wide range of things. We needed the respite, after such a depressing summer. And the news on his foot is still unsettled, and the road ahead is a long one. Some people might say, what is the issue, it's just a foot! And that is tempting. But the infection had gone too deep, the second infection post-surgery is somewhat resistant to antibiotics, and the second surgery is set for Tuesday afternoon. And then there's the still-to-be-scheduled course of IV antibiotics, and the difficult schedule around that process, and the having to go to do that on the daily, and we don't know for how long because the doctor's handwriting made no sense to the infusion folks (it's either 6 days or 6 weeks, who knows?)-- ugh. All of it. And he's still grumbly (rightfully so) about enforced inactivity, about not being able to work, etc. 

I go back to the classroom on Monday, I fear mentally and emotionally depleted. I will take today and tomorrow, at least as much as I can, to find a re-set button. The fall chores are mounting, but there's still time to get things done. But I will have to find some helpers, because we are out of family members who can do stuff. Or things will just have to settle as they are, except the bare essentials. I'm not good at settling; I want things done neatly, properly, and in a timely fashion. I function so much better when I'm in an orderly environment. And this ain't orderly in any way. Keep us in your prayers. 

It's occurred to me that I'm depressing the lot of you. And I'm sorry for that. Here's some good things: it was sunny and warm yesterday, and I got to sit outside with a book for a bit. The tomatoes continue to bless us with fruit, and I'll probably have to consider freezing some of them for stews or whatever. I got a small cucumber off the vine, one more plum, and three blueberries. The second of our established bushes is coming in very late, but I don't mind. The apples and pears are bending the branches to the ground; we are blessed with quite a load. They are almost ready to pick, but not quite yet. Maybe in another week or so. There are windfall fruits, but mostly small, wizened little things that the tree is basically shedding. I checked the pool water, and it's far too cold to get in due to so much rain and the much cooler temps lately, but we'll see what happens in the next two days. If it does not warm up, I will plan to drain it probably over the long holiday weekend. Sad, but it's probably for the best. 

O there I go again, wallowing. I have a habit of wanting to cling to comforting things, to mourn the losses of things and times that are, at best, transitory. I'm reminded of Rilke's "Autumn Day" (the Snow translation) where the speaker says, 

Command the last fruits to be full;
give them just two more southern days,
urge them on to completion and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

I would like a few more days. We have earned it, I think.

C