I just think it is so ironic that a man with so many marvelous opinions and thought provoking quotes through and about life, left us so abruptly this week... with no last word spoken for us to glean on.
And those are some mighty big- empty - shoes. May they never be filled.
Nor Steve's apple basket. That loss hit me to the core.
Jumping back into the dating game at my age is Kilimanjaro size anxiety for me. Imagine how you would plan to climb that mountain and that is how I feel about this process. Where to go, how to dress, how to communicate with the natives, what they will think about me, where will I sleep? A process; with a beginning and middle and end. That should give you a clue.
Youthful dating dodges a carbon stamp- you can afford to engage in the mantra of plenty of time, plenty of fish. Middle age dating is akin to a special Olympics race. You are racing to keep up with your younger peers while leaping hurdles of gray, Geritol, and weight gain and fashion trends which invite you to share your wardrobe with your teen daughter.
I have vacillated from swearing off the opposite sex to wanting to bring home anything that smells good. I'm kind of in the middle right now.
Random and spontaneous I am learning do not mean the same thing with dating. Random is agenda based selection. Spontaneous is free spirited choice without a plan. I wanna add a plant to my garden, so I go the the garden store and pick a plant that might look good in my yard, or at least appeals to me. That's random.
Going to the store and being surprised to see one of my favorite Italian restaurant's marinara bottled and then purchasing it, that's a spontaneous choice. My romantic needs are hoping for spontaneity, while the vast male population of my age group is engaged in random agendas. Can you begin to feel my conundrum here?
I am looking for a Reese Whitherspoon movie ending as a Sandra Bullock character. Is that so much to ask for?
Fall in Phoenix is like Springtime in other cities. We start to plant things and the air is crisp and rains are cooling. We don't have the change of leaves like Fall welcomes you in other places. The trade off is being able to plant things in pots like petunia, pansy, geranium, snap-dragon, zinnia and marigold.
I found some single potted sunflowers at the grocery store a couple weeks ago. I decided to give the raised flower bed I inherited with the house, some purpose in the yard. But the sunflowers seem to be struggling there. I guess they know they are not in Kansas anymore. I would add some mums but I am not certain they would do much better there. I credit the ill-tended garden bed for an not welcoming my plantings. Even I don't like to go to bed in an unmade bed. I suppose I should make the soil more inviting.
The nights are the best part of our Fall. The air is cool so you can leave your windows open with less fear of creepy things crawling in the screens at night. It just smells so cool and it is refreshing to air out the house after stifling summer heat. It rarely gets under 50 degrees right now so you can still wear shorts if you are not inclined to box up the summer wardrobe.
Fall is my favorite season. I like football games, sweatshirts and sweaters, and bonfires. I miss pumpkin patches and corn mazes, morning frost, and hay rides. I don't miss raking, wet leaves, or unexpected snow.
I'm happy to feel the weight of blankets I abandoned in the 100 degree heat. I'm starting to bake again and can't wait for chili and stew to overflow my crock pot. Can you smell apple pie and fresh baked bread?
I few weeks ago on a trip to Northern AZ, I saw cottonwood trees turning gold. When I saw a clump of them it reminded me of other places I have experienced Fall where hillsides and skylines offered watercolor kaleidoscopes of red, yellow, gold, and brown in the distance. I got so excited I had to find my camera to take a photo- but the clump of autumn opportunity was gone before I could focus my lens.
The evening sky is often a painted canvas of red, pink or orange sunsets and some of the cacti yellows and red rocks offer the backdrops we are longing to see. So God's artistic hand finds another place to led color from his Autumn palate to a desert waking from a sort of summer heat solstice.