Candy-Colored Carnival

As per local tradition, on the heels of the harvest moon comes the carnival. Aliens seemed to be a theme this year. You know times are tough when people are volunteering to be abducted.

 Glittering neon gears competed with the brilliant sky.

And while we weren't quite lost in the funhouse...

 ...we were quite lost in the mirror maze.

We had corn dogs and funnel cake, and bought a space hopper for the youngin. And then at last we walked back, through the dark streets, past the silent school and the glowing lamps and the dry leaves skidding along the pavement.

And with that we mark another ritual of the turning of the year.

The Doorway to Autumn

Last Monday, as I was standing on the corner waiting for the harvest moon to rise, an otherworldly feeling began to settle over our street. You know the kind of thing. A sense of whispers just out of the range of hearing, the feeling that a door has opened somewhere.

Ah, I thought, the spirit of Autumn moves across the land.

Before long, my spouse drove past on his way to an errand. He rolled down his window and asked - looking very puzzled - if here had been a dog with me just a moment before. I said "no, why do you ask?" He said, "because I could have sworn I saw Bambi standing right next to you."

Bambi, our dog who passed away in August.

I like to think she had come through the doorway to Autumn and stayed with me to watch the moonrise.

The Summer Of Ill Luck

The season is coming to an end, and while I try to count my blessings, there's no denying it's been a summer of ill luck. One of those times when things are just wrong.

It started in the spring, really, or maybe even in winter, but it was the summer when this oppressive atmosphere - a sort of emotional miasma, you might call it - reached its fullness and refused to budge. Perhaps it began as early as last year, when the hurricanes hit and so many were left to suffer. In a way, it's felt like hurricane weather ever since.

Whatever the reason, I can sense the stirrings of desperation beneath the roiling uncertainty. The hippies have a term for it - bad vibes.

Which isn't to say there was no beauty, or nothing good. Even hard times offer their moments of softness, if you look closely enough.

Here are a few pictures to (hopefully) prove my point.

There is a quote from Yoko Ono  - "The sky is always there for me, while my life  has been going through many, many changes.When I look up at the sky, it gives me a nice feeling, like looking at an old friend."

This is how I'm trying to think of things. No matter what happens, the sky - one way or another - will always be with us.

In the meantime, we await a happier season.

Cosmic Dancer

Being that today is the anniversary of Marc Bolan's death, I was reminded of this odd little T.Rex related synchronicity between my friend Heinrich and me, circa 2004.

For reasons unknown, I'd had the song Cosmic Dancer stuck in my head all day. It's not exactly a radio staple, and it was more than 30 years old by then, but nevertheless there it was.

Later that day, Heinrich came by and we went for a walk. Suddenly he burst out singing Cosmic Dancer - and what's more it was the exact line that had kept running through my mind. I asked him about it and he said "oh, I was listening to that album this morning. Isn't it great?"

It was just a small thing, but a coincidence so vanishingly unlikely that it reminds me that such things may truly be cosmic after all.


image credit: NASA

Ebony Eyes

September third, oh so many years ago. My cousin and me, after my sister's wedding, running and sliding around the polished floors of the reception hall while this song was playing. We've never forgotten it.

Our formal dresses were as tacky as the decor in this video. Such were the ways of the 70's.

Flotsam and Jetsam

Found objects - a glass bottle unearthed from the old family farm, and a wild turkey feather with a golden sheen.