Having been to see the Illegal Eagles on Saturday and been moved by thier last song Last Resort, I looked up the lyrics and read what Don Henley and Glenn Fry were trying to portray when they wrote it as long ago as 1976: the self destruction of a nation where industry and commerce destroy beautiful places. I find it especially poignant with the election of the new president.
In order to soothe my soul somewhat, I went for an autumn walk around the cemetery and woodland burial ground. Although the usual overcast prevailed, it was flat calm and still and autumn leaves fell from the trees like sporadic rain. Just beautiful. Autumn keeps on giving this year. I was struck by just how much the colours of the leaves I brought home match that of the autumn weaving I am engaged in.
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