I read Thoreau at the laundromat while a small elderly man sits next to me. I can feel the weight of his stare and my mind wanders until I remember I am reading Thoreau. A child pushes a cart around the room and his Mom yells. He stops and looks at me so I smile. He begins pushing again, slower this time due to the warning but all of us know he will speed up as if he can't help himself.
I walk outside to sit in the sun and feel the wind. Did I ever love Autumn this much? I don't remember and it doesn't matter anymore because now it is Autumn and I am clearly in love. I am too distracted by all that this is to read and part of me realizes it was Thoreau's hope that I would be too distracted by the beauty I saw to read the notes on what he saw.
I have taken no pictures this weekend. There is no visual documentation of where we were. These hieroglyphics carved into the surface of my cave are all we will ever see. For me it is sufficient.
It's been a while since we have heard some music around here, huh?