Fog and Frost

I have been watching the change of season from the big windows of my loft. This morning there is a lovely dusting of frost on all the adjacent roofs. The last few leaves are still hanging onto the big oak tree, but most of the branches are bare now, making it easy to observe a squirrel on his daily rounds. It is amazing how quickly he scrambles from tree to tree. I am very glad to have my observation post in a warm and lighted room.

On the operatic scene, I have been playing Verdi's Don Carlos - it could easily be my favorite Verdi. Each time I play the opera, I hear new things - the beautiful use of counterpoint - two independent melodies that meet and intertwine and create a fantastic atmosphere. There are numerous clips on youtube - I've chosen just one: King Phillip expressing sorrow and doubt

Frosty World - the Lausitz

I "discovered" this scene on a walk I took; it must be someone's private Paradise. I, too, was taken by the view.

And one more "Frost:"

         November

     We saw leaves go to glory,

     Then almost migratory

     Go part way down the lane,

     And then to end the story

     Get beaten down and pasted

     In one wold day of rain.

     We heard " 'tis over" roaring.

     A year of leaves was wasted.

     Oh, we make boast of storing,

     Of saving and of keeping,

     But only by ignoring

     The waste of moments sleeping,

     The waste of pleasure weeping,

     By denying and ignoring

     The waste of nations warring.

                            Robert Frost