I cried over beautiful things...

I slept late today - and then headed off to play a jazz workshop at a regional charter school.  It was a gas:  the young people were respectful and interested, the building was well-kept and attractive and the staff - teachers as well as administrators - were kind and fun.  And so another season of "jazz in the schools" comes to a close until late winter in the Berkshires.  It was wonderful to visit 5 different schools all over the region and share some jazz with students who might not ever have exposure to this art form.

When I got home, I was still beat from a demanding week.  So after a very lazy afternoon, we headed out this evening to get our fall pumpkins:  I LOVE me some pumpkins and it is always have fun going out to Cheshire to find some that speak to our souls.  I mean that - for me the aesthetics of pumpkins is all about soul - some just call out to you, "I NEED to go home with you!"  It made me think of the poem Robert Frost once wrote:

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

Pumpkins evoke autumn like nothing else does for me - and autumn is a beautiful foretaste of the quiet challenge of winter yet to come.  I cherish this melancholy season and revel in all its glory.

Next week, there will be more jazz to share at our monthly Patrick's Pub jazz party on Thursday.  I will be doing pastoral visits with those fighting cancer and other wounds, too. Who knows what the approaching tropical storm will bring to us?  And then it is off to Maryland for the memorial service for my sister Beth.  Like Frost said, "I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts..."

(And as always, I'm digging Di's pictures...)


Black Pete said…
Did I read "pumpkins"--as in plural? How many pies is that going to be? ;)
RJ said…
Oh yes that would be 4... plus the 2 little ones Di got for me last week. ;-)

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