It's Fall, And The Light is Shifting

The light is shifting and I can no longer tell what time it is from a slab of sun bursting under my bedroom door. The morning light and I need to get reacquainted.

I wake and go out to check the garden. 20 tomatoes. 5 cucumbers.

So much wonderfulness from the library: cooking magazines and movies  (Syndromes and a Century which I've been wanting to see for years, and the Saltmen of Tibet).

In the grocery store they play the The.

Big Cottonwood Canyon to Silver Lake, hiking up through aspen groves--oceans of yellow. It smelled like sage and pine and fall! The moose on the way home.

Feeding Lopon yesterday and checking the english on translations of prayers by Khenpo Naga, mind ter from Dudjom Rinpoche and Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche.

K and I in the tree. It was dark. We listened to Juana Molina.