I wish I could invent a camera that could hold a picture and save it for me to look at after my eyes lose their acuity. The world is so lovely here in southern California today that it hurts me to think that one day I might miss all of this not through lack of looking, but simply because various parts of this old body are becoming less efficient all the time.

Today I’m enjoying gorgeous clouds on a sky that makes you want to discover a new word for “blue” because nothing in your rather extensive vocabulary can describe that perfect color. We don’t get the fall foliage tours around here, but there are enough trees changing color to catch your eye from time to time. Even the basil plant in my garden triangle, which has been completely ignored since I broke my leg in July, has grown tall and full of seed stalks; when the sun hits them they shine like bronze.

Fall has always been one of my favorite times of the year (the others being spring, summer, and even winter if we get rain) because of how it makes me feel. Somehow I have missed out on the gene that causes depression and despair at this changing season. I often hear the word “crisp” used when people are describing autumn, and it seems remarkably appropriate. I’m energized by long shadows.

At the end of her life, my mom’s eyesight deteriorated to the point where she could distinguish only shadows. A face was no more than a silhouette against the light, and the wonders of nature were all in her memory. She still enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face, though, and the smells of flowers and fresh-cut grass. Her memories supplied the rest.

So far, I’m not doing too badly (for 70+ years). but I’m building the memories now so that they’ll be available for me later. On a day like this, it’s easy.

I’ll see you again, after the commercial.