HELLO, NOVEMBER

It’s very early. I’m looking out over the trees from my bed through the window. It’s grey and slate blue and evergreen. Most leaves are down which has exposed the nests of the mostly absent birds and hornets. It’s a view that calmly requests acceptance. It’s not quite fall anymore. There’s still time to plant garlic and other bulbs but growing is done. Horses are fluffy, the dogs are sleepy and the cats only bring in mice now. 

It’s been hard to transition to colder seasons this year as I feel like there’s something I didn’t quite finish, but I can’t recall what it is? Did I lose something? Am I somehow vulnerable? 

It’s time for the second recording session for a new record. Paul is here and we are working like somnambulant beavers before the rest of the musicians get here. The light makes it feel like we are dreaming everything. We try to finish songs but end up writing new ones, as if we missed our seasons for the other. Will they rot? At least I have trust. Trust in the process of making a record. Sometimes I wish I knew less about the process so that I would worry less about the final outcome. It’s no longer a ride, but now a choreographed waltz through a long maze of exquisite turnstyles. You have to pace yourself and consider the effects of living in micro-focus world where time is very different. You have to guard your emotions from compressed time, it can give you a nasty bite. 

I don’t know what will happen ultimately, but I know there will be a record at the end, like a little strip of black and white photos dropping into the chrome slot from the photo booth processing gears. It’s exciting and warm. 

Coco and Chet in front of the fireplace.