Even as fall is beginning to fade into an early winter, a few of Mona's flowers persist. Most of her garden has browned and sagged following two mornings of hard frost, and she has harvested most things by now. The basement if a maze of hanging tomato plants pulled up by the roots, the green fruit gradually ripeneing on the withering vines. Onions are spread on the deck when the sun shines, and pumpkins sit on the table outside by the front door. Drying herbs hang from the kitchen ceiling - some will make it back to the kitchen in Alameda with me.



Yesterday we were supposed to go up in the mountains again, in a different area off Tunnel Road. But I woke up dizzy and sick, and ended up laying around much of the day, finally feeling well enough to have dinner. I was going to leave tomorrow morning (Thursday) for the long drive back to California, but decided to postpone another day so we can still go up to the mountains one more time and see some new (to me) things.



Today Mona and I went to a neighboring ranch to pick apples off a big old tree - it was loaded with them, and we brought home a five gallon bucket full for Mona to stash away in the cellar. Before we went to pick apples, I was overcome with remorse again because Pat and I were unsuccessful in our efforts to settle down in Denver. Not that we have a great love for Denver now, but at least we could have owned a house there, and most of all, we would always have been only two and a half hours from Mona and the ranch. I wish I could just appreciate everything we have experienced here, including these last moments, but it seems I can't stop clinging to the all the things I associate with being here. I know that just detracts from my joy at being here and having been here, but it is very hard to let go and not feel bad for the long distance away we will be, and the very different lives that await us of in the Bay Area.

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Tonight is a full moon, and a full lunar eclipse should arrive late into the evening. When I walked outside to watch the moon rise over the Eastern hills, a band of coyotes began howling off a distance to the South. As I paused to listen carefully to this, a much nearer pack began a wild yelping and howling cacaphony - it was startling in its proximity, clarity, and volume.




Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf