Betwixt and Between
September 14, 2005 7:20 am Yesterday, I said to my dear friend, T, that I could easily live through a year's worth of late summer and early autumn. The deep, cornflower blue summer sky has watered down to a paler version of itself, with cool, diffused sunlight dancing through chestnut trees. Soft shafts of light brighten my kitchen with slow moving shadows. It has been an unhurried, steady summer for us. Incrementally, Frank grows smaller, slower, his energy dwindles along with his sharp-as-a-tack memory and his high-spirited wit. But his determination remains the same. Fuck this shit!' he sometimes says. I'm not ready to die yet. Well, don't then, you crazy fool!' I answer back. And we laugh and laugh and laugh. And he bravely carries on. The vegetable garden went to hell this year because of the drought. I speak to other gardeners and we bond over this climate tragedy, relieved in one sense that it's not due to our poor gardening skills. Save for a rather ...