The measure of my dreams

A very fall drive in this morning, with cooler air and misty fog, giving way to a truly golden sunrise by the time I reached campus. Projected high today is 65º and sunny. This seasonal transition is still in it's early days, though, so the deciduous leaves are just turning and not yet dropping.

Apart from hyperactive retail desperation for holiday-spurred sales, the trappings of Halloween and fall festivals are not yet littering doorsteps and mantles; we'd like to think it is still summer for a little bit longer. That's fine with me. There is something magical about the wedge of nether land between seasons, something that heightens our senses and awareness. Maybe it stems from a time in our distant (or not so) past when feeling the subtle changes in the season was critical to survival. At a minimum, at this particular seasonal shift, it stirs both longing for the warm days past and anticipation for the season to come.

Clearly, today was Tailgate Tuesday and I missed the memo, but thankfully nobody rear ended me. Must be a number of folks who are running exceptionally late this morning.

The iPod was in a mixed mood, but finished up on a truly beautiful contemporary Irish ballad: A Rainy Night in Soho. There is a line in the song that I find compactly poetic and expressive, and which always reminds me of my beloved: "You are the measure of my dreams." What a wonderful expression, sentiment, and thing to say to some you care deeply for.

Leonard Cohen: Ain't No Cure For Love (Live)
Michel Camilo: Why Not!
Frank Sinatra: Nice 'n' Easy
Damien Dempsey: A Rainy Night in Soho


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