Fall Blues

The blackberries I picked this afternoon in my back yard are fat and juicy--nearly twice as large as the last ones, a week ago. The hot sunny days and a few light rains made the difference. There are more coming on, but they may be as minute as those others--rain yes, sun? doesn't look like it.

Which brings me to the subject of this post: Fall Blues. Not because of the rain. I have grown to love all the different kinds of rain we get here in the Pacific Northwest. But the last few days I only had to glance out the window and know it is fall. And I feel gloomy. Don't like the thin insubstantial light out there. Mingy Northern light. Torturing myself, I think of Mediterranean light at this time of year--illuminating the aqua-trimmed cream-colored buildings in Nice, for example. No consolation, but certitude--confirmation that the light out there in my back yard is thin, weak.

No doubt a model of the earth and the sun would illustrate the scientific explanation for this phenomenon I fret about. But knowing pragmatically that it is perfectly predictable would not comfort me.

I have been mooning around for the past week and would like to say that it is all because of fall blues. Unfortunately not. I haven't slept well for over a month--in pain, tossing and turning to try to find relief. Waking up and not really awake--in a fog. I am only half with it and feel I am not doing anything that can be remotely described as productive. Just keeping this place from going to hell in a hand basket saps what little energy I have, whine.

So here are the blues and here I am, shiftless from lack of sleep, accomplishing zilch! Blues heart and soul.