I think I see Autumn… and I like it.

For Liz: “Autumn in Florida. Please forego your fancy beach vacation in November and share a mug of Glühwein with me on my front porch, instead.”

I have a dear friend who lives in Germany. We used to visit each other often, but now that we’re grown up and trying to be responsible adults who don’t trade their grocery money for transcontinental trips we’re reduced to emails, an occasional letter and soon, (although it has yet to come to fruition because right now she’s on a work trip in Toronto) with a newly discovered inexpensive phone plan that only charges 2 cents per minute, phone calls again. In her last email she said, ‘We’re well within the throes of Fall here. Are you guys there yet?” Until this week, I might not have been able to answer her with any sense of assurance, but as of this morning, it’s a confident: “affirmative, Ghost Rider.”

 I awoke later than normal, as I’m recovering from something funky that hit me that last part of the week. The dogs were raring to go outside, so I scavenged around for some semblance of breakfast, settling on a cold slice of some sort of polenta creation from last night’s dinner. Then, armed with black coffee, because no one bothered to replace the milk when we ran out, the four of us (Milo, Ruby, Jasper, and I) headed out into the morning.

I was struck first by the chill in the air—unexpected, and enough to merit a trip back inside for a sweater. Then I noticed the brilliance of the morning. It was as if the sun were a weeping willow, weaving her streaming rays through the tree tops down to the dirt. Even the dogs, whose brains are roughly the size of a walnut, noticed a difference. They bounded, and I mean literally pranced off into the woods—with tails in the air, spring in their step and noses to the ground. Milo stuck close by offering sticks for me to throw. Jasper and Ruby must have disappeared through the wardrobe into an alternate dimension as they were gone for what seemed like forever, returning smelling faintly of wild animal musk and as though they’d been rolling in (or in Ruby’s case, eating) something dead.

 As our morning burned away and afternoon set in, our mellow soundtrack of waking birds and Iron and Wine was replaced by the rumbling of semi-trucks cruising far beyond the posted limit for our road and workers somewhere in the near distance constructing something big. I’m now using my last few hours before our gig tonight in Railroad Square to work out a set list for not only this gig but the next few upcoming ones. We’ll be out tonight at the Star Seas Café, the fourth of four bands that begin at 6:00pm. Our expected stage time is 8:00pm, but with that many acts changing in and out, who knows when it really will begin. The good thing is that if you get there and see that we’re not on yet, there will not only be other bands to keep you entertained but the whole atmosphere at a First Friday celebration at Railroad Square is alive and teeming with goodness for all of your senses—I can imagine that it will be especially so tonight, since there’s a magic in the air that even the weiner dogs can recognize.

 See y’all tonight.

Star Sea’s Café in Railroad Square, Tallahassee

6:00pm -10:0pm

Free show

**This is an outdoors venue without much in the way of seating… if you’re planning on coming and parking it for the entirety of our 1.5 hour set, you might want to bring a camp chair!!

And in other news, Unseen Stories, the group that I went to West Africa with last year has finished their documentary on child trafficking in West Africa. It will premier in November in Tallahassee, followed by a Florida tour where the director will be accompanied by the Beninese project manager. A national tour will kick off in January. If you’d like to host a screening, let me know and I’ll connect you with the right people!


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