Good Blood, Bad Blood

“What a great time to be alive, if you love the theater of the absurd.” David Lynch

November arrives. Cooler, wet weather accompanies the calendar. It comes dressed in familiar garb. A grey sweater of cloud warms the heart, if not the skin. Overcast skies diffuse the autumn light. Primary colors morph into pastels. Trees disrobe. Their bark thickens. Branches ready themselves for a long winter rest. Their coat of many colors disengage in a breeze. Leaves decorate the ground.

Falling rain nourishes the roots. The rhythmic patter of its collision with the earth soothes the disappointment of current events. Our tetra annual presidential election trudged to its conclusion, dragging the losers through a gauntlet of recrimination. 

I lick my wounds. My bias can only imagine what is lost in the upheaval. There’s no word in the dictionary to explain to me this result. I grieve. I wobble. I seek equilibrium in the ordinary. I take a long mopey walk on the waterfront. Fall rain and cloud retreat. I enjoy clear, windless skies. Fickle autumn delivers a fleeting respite from the pain. The planet rotates on its axis indifferent to political weather. 

Afterwards, I shop. I buy comfort foods: bread, bananas, and cereal. I splurge on a bouquet of colorful flowers to cheer me up. Back home, I cut the stems to fit a vase. I place them in a bright spot. 

I sit with my laptop. I contemplate unsubscribing from news feeds. I wish to mute the noise. The postmortems are unhelpful. Naïveté stained my optimism. I’d mistakenly believed rational opinion could prevail in chaos. It’s an illness to which I’m pre-disposed.

The best medicine is nature. It’s cheaper than therapy. You don’t need a prescription. It’s free. The only side effects are fresh air and inner peace. I have mountains, rivers, and my front yard. Now, with the falling leaves, there’s plenty of healthy chores in which to immerse myself.

We prep the house for winter. A local business washes the windows and cleans the gutters. Our house sparkles a bit, my spirit too. I tidy up the walkways. Soon, there will be another dose of leaves needing attention. Each day unfolds and departs. The crazy fall of color continues.