Chill

Today felt cold! Actually cold! Well... okay, I'll qualify that. I was fine outside walking through Boston (another interview) in a dress, leggings, tall leather boots, and a jacket. But now, inside, changed and in socks, my toes are holding a bit of a chill. It's supposed to hang around 60 tomorrow, too.

Yesterday and the day before, it was Indian Summer, in the 70s, with golden sun filtering through mostly green leaves. On Monday morning, I went to a job interview, then strolled down to the Public Garden. Knowing I might be leaving for New York (for a job) has made me appreciate Boston's beauty - the openness, the gardens that shamelessly ape those of London, with formal circles of roses and small, fanning palms. I sat watching old men, mothers, babies, students, and dogs - especially one squirrel-obsessed mutt named ralph. I felt like a grownup impostor in my brand-new suit, but the sun was warm and the breeze was nice.

Yesterday was even better. I took a book and my water bottle and went to the duck pond in Wellesley. It's different now from when I was a child - fewer fences, and the paths have been allowed to grow in some, narrower and wild. Part of the effort for the natural includes a ban on feeding. Although the adult, rational environmentalist in me is glad for the ducks and geese, I viscerally miss bringing stale heels to lure the quackers. It seems like there are fewer of them, now, though it might just be that they don't come out to the human areas as much.  I walked around to the back, and sat on the stone overlook, watching the ducks and the sun in the trees. Meditating, but with worse posture. Afterwards, I climbed my favorite tree, nestled in the lower limbs, and read a few pages. A small child (too small for the tree) wanted to come up and climb, but her father said, "There's already somebody in that tree; let's go find some duckies." What a good afternoon. Jeans and a sweater and sneakers and bark. The way life's meant to be.