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Cynthia's Wednesday shoes do not care if the weather is cool and the toes are cold. Fashion is all that matters.
This is my co-worker Rene mimicking what she did as a little girl when she wanted to be wearing high heels. She stepped on cola cans and walked around with them stuck to the heels of her shoes. Isn't it amazing what one finds out just taking a picture of women's shoes? And, yes, we do work. All of this took place prior to 8am.
Cynthia, one of my co-workers, has about a hundred pairs of shoes. Her footwear creates a lot of interest in our workplace and so I thought it might be fun to photograph some of the most interesting of her collection. These are Cynthia's harem shoes, worn with a red print skirt and various other embellishments. Since Cynthia is young and tall and thin, everything looks good on her. I on the other hand, am not a shoe person and only wear shoes because I can't go to work with bare feet.
This is my new art piece in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month. Her name is "Survivor".
Sometimes, I look in the mirror and I see my mother staring back at me in the reflection. I think all of us who are aging have that happen every now and then and it does not really surprise us. Yesterday, though, as I was getting dressed for work, I saw my mother's legs in my mirror and they were attached to me. What I mean is that the skin on my legs is sagging, slowly making it's way to the tops of my knees. And no matter now thin I get, my legs do not change. I now have the legs of an old woman. I don't know why this surprises me so, I am creeping up towards seventy. So what do I expect? Perhaps the legs of the bouncy majorette of the 1950's? Or the firm, strong legs of the runner of the 197o's? Or the still pretty fantastic legs as I "worked out" in the 1980's?
No, those legs are gone. In their place are my mother's legs. They stare back at me in mockery, causing me to think about the things that really matter. What matters is that I have amassed a good deal of wisdom as these legs have responded to gravity; I have made a difference to the lives of many as my hair has grown whiter; and I have learned much from my life as my face has taken on its wrinkles. And so instead of quoting from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, "I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled...", I will quote instead from my favorite Robert Frost poem, Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening: " And I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep".
I can live with my mother's legs. I can live with my father's jaw line. But that is where the similarity ends. I am carving my own initials on the tree of my life. And the tree is only a sapling. I have much work to do.
I read someone's blog today and it seems the seasons are changing in New York. How I wish they were changing in Florida. Just in case autumn is right around the corner, I spent the day killing weeds and getting the garden ready for it's next performance. I used to pull weeds by hand but lately, I've decided that using weed killer is much more efficient and saves my energy for things that are more important. Although I thought the hummingbirds had begun their southern migration, I was wrong. They are still in the garden and I saw two of them this morning. I also was happy to see three or four nuthatches that were eating bugs all over the garden. I never have nuthatches in my yard so this was quite a thrill for me. It doesn't take much. Just a new bird or a new flower or maybe a little change in the morning light to let me know cooler weather is on it's way. The bean plants are about six inches tall and the lettuce are thriving. In about two more weeks, I'll plant Swiss Chard. In the meantime, I will dream of a drop in temperature and an excuse to wear my black suede jacket.
I took this beautiful photograph through the car window on the way back from somewhere. The sky was turning from light to dark (dark-thirty, as Janet and I like to say), the shadows were growing longer and day was quickly turning into night. Cold weather was on its way and the contrails looked like giant feathers. 
The honeysuckle in the back garden has donned its fall berries in bright orange just in time for the Thanksgiving season. 
The beauty-berry bush has only recently decided to turn it's berries purple. This is the bush in the back garden bed. The other beauty-berry bushes around the yard have been purple for about a month. The timing of nature is a curiousity.
