The view From My Window. . .

I’m looking out my window. I like the desk here. The light is falling gently on my papers. There are prisms, if weak ones, moving on the desk pad from the very slight breeze blowing in the autumn afternoon.

The sky is beginning to haze over like a lazy eyelid and gives the impression that the indian summer is almost over. We await the first rain of the season. California can go a long while without a drink. Like a camel patient and slow.

There’s a bundle of broom corn that I grew in the garden this year tied to the front porch railing that’s hanging over like a messy hairdo in need of a good wash and set.

The sun is on its way down after a lazy days work, half strength compared to the full on blast of summer. I love the way the world looks in the fall. The angle of the sun is a photographer’s dream. Why is the world so ugly at noon?

The willow tree out front is counting its leafy fingers gently in the breeze, proud of its explosion of growth. It was nothing but a twig last fall. Now it has grown into a real tree, if an airy fairy one. As tall as the house, he has reason to boast. One wonders how he will look a year from now !

Our bayberries are turning from dull orange to red, planning ahead for the winter fashion show in which they will play the chief color part.

There will be an early curtain call on the day this evening, as the sun is obscured by the bank of clouds that’s sneaking in the western door. They always think I don’t notice them. Little do they know I have been watching for them all summer.