Last night the plane ride from Oakland was pleasant. I knocked off the rest of the Yeats biography--an interesting life. Then, when we landed, at one in the morning, the weather was so perfect, and I realized that I am in north Texas in October, which is as near perfection as anyplace gets. Cool, pleasant nights giving rise to days which are warm, but not too warm. The leaves won't begin to turn here until pretty much November, and things will remain green and largely in bloom--except that the grass will barely grow, and I will barely have to mow.
It's a time of arts and crafts festivals, and long drives into the middle of the country nowhere, and giant flea markets. Perhaps this Saturday I'll drive to Canton, home of the world's largest flea market. Perhaps I'll go sunfishing at the Park Hill Prairie, where the fish will bite as soon as I drop a hook in, but I'll throw them all back. Maybe I'll just arise at dawn and walk the Trinity Trail, sharing the trail with the last of the butterflies and the distant view of heron on the lake.
There's just one problem--I have to work during the weekdays. Sometimes I wish I were a school teacher, with a month or more off at a time. But then they'd have to fix the school schedule. I would want October off. Where I grew up, one kid's dad did six months in Alaska so that he could winter the other six months. That would be living. Maybe there's hope for me yet--as a welder who takes Octobers off.
Now it's time to go to work.