September 12, 2010
It won’t be long now, she sighed. Leaves were already beginning to change color, and the misty air hung in the holly tree, its berries tingeing from deep green to chartreuse in their progression towards winter crimson. With her house tasks done, and no obligations to the outside world, she settled into a favorite spot to read Cormac McCarthy through the afternoon. Before dinnertime she’d finished No Country for Old Men, and sat thinking about it for a long while. The characters, so well developed, yet with such sparing style. Sentences hanging without a noun or verb, making perfect sense.