kaleidescope

Walking along the leaf-scattered trail, I stop for a moment on the bridge by the creek and take in the beauty and the glory that is Nature. So tranquil, so serene, so perfect for a Hallmark I wish for my camera. Never is there such beauty as when enjoying a moment alone in the midst of a forest. I am alone, unbothered by other humans. I hear the drip-drip-drip of rain falling from the leaves and dropping onto the mud-covered trail. Acorns fall from the trees in random spontaneity, accompanied by the occasional pine cone or the walnut. Such annoyance accompanied by hilarity reach me as I encounter their touch on the back of my head. I smile to myself. I trek further up the muddy trail, trying desperately to despise the mud that splatters on my Levis. I recall memories from the past and adventures with family. Mud pies with acorn centerpieces and bits of color from torn up leaves. Red orange yellow leaves. A kaleidoscope of color, minute, fragmented, easily picked up by a stray wind and carried away. The forest smells like Autumn, a fragrant muskiness specific to this time of the year. I inhale the fragrance, treasuring it. There is nothing better than the smell of autumn in the air. Autumn enriches my spirit, fills me with joy and wanderlust, and I always want to become a sudden wayward traveler who leaves their worries behind. I will travel light and carry only what is needed. I will drive with the windows down, the wind in my face, seeing everything there is to see along the country roads. I will drive, and I will drive some more, stopping only when Nature has had Her way again. She will grow tired of this landscape, as she does with all the others, and she will beckon Winter to come forth. 

Snowbound

This Transcendentalism theme will be wonderful for me as I greatly enjoy these authors. Although I do have to admit that Snowbound's author, John Greenleaf Whittier, wasn't immediately recognized by me when I read the list of assigned readings for this pod, I remember having read this sometime much earlier in my life.  While I always groaned that the length was great, I did always enjoy the images and the memories it revived in me.  I've been snowbound once or twice in my life, and have experienced the same sense of euphoria and blissful wonder when viewing the world in a snow-covered blanket. My children and my dog would partake of a good, wintry day clad in boots, mittens and hats, scrambling up the hillside with our plastic sleds.

For me, specifically, both as an adult and as a child, good times in the snow generally meant trekking with the family, including the dog, through the woods of a neighboring park. We lived in the city but it was my father who always taught us to appreciate the beauty of a natural landscape, especially in the snow. He had a job in an office and wore a suit and tie every day. On the weekends in the winter time, he had great fun with us as we went to the nearby parks. When us kids went sledding, there was his "excuse" to go sledding too. I guess he felt like he needed an excuse to have some fun.

Story of an Hour by Chopin

Poor Mrs. Mallard! Again I feel regret that this sick woman cannot be set free from a life of heartache. I have to wonder if this was an arranged marriage, as was custom long ago.

I enjoyed the setting of her being in the chair in the upstairs room, her tears drying on her cheeks, and the scent of rain pleasant to her senses.

Richard, the husband's friend, had hurried to deliver the news of his friends death in order to be the first to tell her. Had wanted to tell her the way he chose, with tenderness, causing the reader to wonder if it was due to his nature to be so thoughtful or if it had something to do with Mrs. Mallard herself. As if he fancied her...

But what a twist of irony at the end! Having him return just as she's ready to face her new life.  "She had died of heart disease, of joy that kills."

The Cask of Amontillado

As always with Poe, I felt definite unease when reading this. Poe will never make it to my list of top authors of all time, and I think that its just a personal choice on my part. Perhaps the closer to Halloween we get, the more "in the mood" I'll be for gloom and doom. Of course, even then I can only imagine it in a fun and scary way, like reading his story to my kids around a campfire at nighttime.

This is a tale about a fool's travels... and I say that only because a drunk man travelling into underground caverns in very ill health possibly to get more to drink would indeed not be wise.

The world was different back in his time.Do you think people wanted to be entertained by reading his dark tales? Was there so little entertainment back then? Why did people read his material?