“The dog is Fitzi, beloved pet of the LH and Alma Rivard family, especially Louise. It’s very likely that the dog was never a favorite of the exceptionally clean housekeeper Alma. But Fitzi had acquired legendary status by the time the children of Louise and Raymond heard the stories.” JLR
Lucinda C died February 8, 1862 at 53 years of age. She was the wife of Sheldon Turner. The name comes from latin and means light. Miguel de Cervantes created a character in Don Quijote, named “Lucinda.”
We think the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for joy.
Pema Chödrön
The seasons converge in Autumn; Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. September, October, November and December come together. Snow, sunshine, birth and death happen. The wind blows, or doesn’t blow, and what we know for sure is that which we don’t know, in the face of uncertainty. We feel sadness, happiness, hope and despair. One is irrelevant, without the other.
On Hallowe’en the old ghosts come
About us, and they speak to some;
To others they are dumb.
They haunt the hearts that love them best;
In some they are by grief possessed,
In other hearts they rest.
They have a knowledge they would tell;
To some of us it is a knell,
To some a miracle.
They come unseen, they go unseen;
And some will never know they’ve been,
And some know all they mean.
“The New Book of Days” by Eleanor Farjeon
“Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-can look at an old woman, protray her exactly as she is…and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be…and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart…no matter what the merciless hours have done to her.”
― Robert Heinlein
The Saxons called October Wyn-Monath, or Wine Month.
Ancient Germans called October, Winter fyleth
In honor of the full moon.
In 2020 the golden colors of the Wine Month
leave me feeling drunk.
In my stupor I dream of snowy days
And white snowflakes tumbling down from the sky.
On the trail flowers and ferns testify to the delicate balance of nature throughout the seasons. A wild flower may appear along the path by itself, or you might find it flourishing in bunches. The lone flower may not return the next year, allowing only one chance to appreciate it in the moment.
In the photo you will see a New England Aster. Its deep purple color stands out against the reds and browns of the October landscape.
Tiffany has been having episodic headaches lately, mostly at night. They showed up Wednesday, in the night, an uninvited guest without a welcome, they’ve stayed for five days now, to be exact. In a wild attempt to understand what was happening, like many, Tiffany resorted to Dr. Google, and found out they are genetic, and nothing can cure them. They can only be managed with lifestyle changes, and maybe medication from the doctor. In her research, a Quiz popped up, so she took it. The title was, “If you were to have a job, an occupation to manage migraines, what would you be?” In the final assessment they said she would be a Firefighter. She thought that was perfect, and also hopes the flames have finally been put out, and the embers die as soon as possible.
On Tiffany Creek 