One more time

Margie and I went out for a walk today. Leaning on her chair relieved my back pain enough that I could keep going for eight blocks (sort of like walking with a rollator), and she loved escaping from her apartment and being out in the world. Win-win.

In the main blip she’s delighting in the fence made of railroad ties rails/"sleepers" and fused glass inserts (see 2nd extra, which I will soon delete, for the glass inserts), designed by Herbert Dreiseitl. This link shows the very fence in my photo, but it looks redder in their photograph, and we were on the back side of the fence, as the side of the fence depicted in the link is not accessible by wheelchair.

On the way back to her place, I gathered up some autumn leaves and put them in her hands (Extra). Sadly, she couldn’t smell them. Her taste and smell have never returned since she had Covid-19. But she loved seeing and holding the leaves. “Oh I get to see the leaves turning colors one more time!” She added, “I know I always complain that I want to be done with life already, but being able to see the leaves change is a—what is the word? It starts with a C….”

I offered, “Consolation?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s it. It’s a consolation to see the leaves change one more time.”

Reminded me of Shakespeare’s sonnet 73, 

“That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs….” 

If you’d like to hear it read aloud quite beautifully, Sir Patrick Stewart reads it here, although someone who knows nothing about light filmed him reading it.* (Harling Darling says he may have filmed it himself during lockdown.)