Fall has Felled

How blessed I am. I step out of my writing studio and the sun shines above the clouds in late autumn and the leaves are golden upon the trees still. The sun shines upon the misty rain coming down and I look across the way at a tall hemlock and the rain comes down lightly in front of it bright as snow. It is all too beautiful, D--’s back yard; all the delights of nearly being in the forest yet we are five minutes from South Center. Yes the delights of summer have gone and memory is heavy. Fall is wet in your bones, you bask in color and smells you have seen and smelled all your life; it is wet and you understand it, let it happen. You understand why Indians of old could have lived here for centuries fighting over fishing and hunting grounds.