This post was too long in the coming. Sorry it has been a while since we’ve had a substantial update. So many changes seem to happen all at once. I am sure we’ll get back into the swing of things soon.
This is from Saturday, Sept. 29th, 2007:
But can I say how much I love Chicago? Chicago on the tip of Autumn. Is there any thing more special in the world? There is a crispness in the morning air – a distinct chill. Instead of pulling on a jacket over my short-sleeve sweater, I sit in the back of a cab bound for O’Hare – a pony tail, windows rolled down, cold air encircling my arms, my neck.
Nurseries are selling gourds, decorated with golden wheat standing straight, tied against fence posts. A farmer’s market was set up outside my hotel window this morning, spanning a large parking lot with the white tops of their booths. The darkness of 6 AM pressing down upon their final preparations. They were prepared to sell the good of a true Midwest harvest. There is a certain magic to a Midwest fall that I’ve only know of for 4 years now. I want to transplant myself in the middle of it. I want to follow the season across the globe and live eternally in its magic – departing when the first true crystalline winter frost settles over the earth. I want to stretch the golden moments of the season into a lifetime of bright oranges, glorious yellows, and fiery reds. I want to bask eternally in the warm indoors in the evenings, let the logs that burn and smolder in fireplaces heat the room at night – find my comfort in the cinnamon smell of the season.
There is no season I love more.
My mind unfurls into long expanses of imagination. I pull that Autumn world of deep blue and purple twilights, skies dotted with stars, lamplight from windows pouring onto the lawn strewn with browning, dying leaves – I pull this world around myself like an impossibly soft cashmere throw.
Nothing more fantastic than this city’s nighttime grid.
My mental wanderings of the morning – of my make-believe life in Chicago, temporarily subsided to my passion for the season. On the way to O’Hare this morning while passing neighborhoods, a park, and businesses, I built a fantasy life for myself. I watched as the orange sun broke above the treetops and made the whole world glow…
My morning walks would stretch only a mile or so. They’d be a nice, casual pace. Darby would walk along side me enjoying the leisurely pace. When I returned home, it would be to a house full of orange morning light and warmth. Justin would be just waking up – laying in bed with the babies (Ruby and Eve). I’d unleash Darby who’d be excited to be at home and see Justin just getting out of bed. He’d want to nuzzle up to him and get an acknowledging pat. Justin and I would go about making breakfast. Definitely orange juice to match the glorious glow of the morning. Maybe I’d bake scones or muffins. We’d relax into our cozy den, looking out into our yard filled with dew. We’d catch up on dreams from the previous night’s rest, or dreams on a larger scale.
I hope (I feel) that Chicago is in my future.
