October skies are clear, blue and peach paint the sunset nightly.
Guitars, güiro, trumpets, trombones, vocalists enlivened the stage tonight with energy, lifting sweaty people of all colors and backgrounds from their seats. Always a party– anyone always welcomed with opened arms and swaying hips.
“America is not a country. It is a continent divided into 3 parts: North America, Central America, and South America. It is my belief that anyone should be free to move here with good intentions.”
We danced in place; now my feet ache. We watched the sun go down. One man, though, danced with such intensity and longevity that I don’t think he will walk properly tomorrow morning. He managed to fan himself, smoke, and drink… all while dancing vivaciously. He was the highlight.
Tamales punctuated our evening, with a scorching chili paste chaser– an appropriately warm ending to quite a sultry day.
The sky looks different when autumn arrives; it’s almost as if I can feel the cooler breeze, lighter air just gazing out.
My imagination is vital during the rest of the year, pretending that it feels as good as fall, no matter the weather.
The sky is clear of clouds, continuing forever it seems, until the sunset illuminates the ones coasting in, carrying a cold-front in their wake.
Just looking out of my shaded window, I feel a cooler breeze on my cheeks, acorns crunching beneath my heels, and the smell of pumpkin pie spice, as if it was warming my kitchen like the sun on the horizon clouds.
In the warm autumn breeze that tickled the trees’ leaves, I filled my watering can full and watched as it pooled in the overflow pan under my rose. Would you happen to know what jumped up as I tipped the plate dry? A sweet little toad, with water dripping from his toes!