Fall. Just Because.

On the sidewalk in front of my house, 10:01 AM, Thursday, November 2, 2017. At last I have found a good use for the pavement that no one on Long Island ever uses.

I went Fall Leaf hunting yesterday morning. The weather has turned a bit cooler this past week with a few days of hard rain, so there was quite a lot to choose from right in my own font yard.

My Perfect Fall Leaf has to have an interesting “color story”, as you can see from some of my past Perfects:

Maybe you can tell that I have a preference for Oak leaves, especially ones that exhibit a little bit of rot. The shape is breath-takingly exquisite, but the problem is that Oak trees tend to zap straight from their Summer shade of dull olive green to their Fall shade of drabbier-than-drab brown.  It’s a real treat when I can find an Oak leaf that has a color story to tell, but that is exceedingly rare. That Oak leaf that you see directly above is practically a miracle: I’ve NEVER seen one that was so chronically complex and that is why that leaf is my favorite painting ever.

In my perusal of my front yard yesterday morning, I found two leaves that might be thought-provoking enough to paint. I have placed them between two wet paper towels and stored them in the refrigerator until I finish putting this post up. Then I’ll make a cup of tea and pull them out and consider whether their stories are worth my telling.

My story for this post is that I had a very literary week, in that one night I went to a book event for a well-known ghost writer, and a few evenings later I attended a swell “do” that featured a panel of distinguished lady writers: a biographer, a memoirist, a novelist, and a short-fiction writer. Except for the short-fiction writer, the panel was mind-numbingly lackluster and I nearly expired out of boredom so I will not go into details except to say that writers who spend a lot of time teaching college tend to not have much awareness that people attending book events don’t want to hear a droning monologue. That might work with a captive audience of college freshman, but not in the real world.

This has nothing to do with this week’s blog but I need to break up the text so here’s a pic of my desk lamp. I cleared away the cobwebs three weeks ago but this is what I’m dealing with now and I can’t bring myself to evict whoever is living there because spiders are “good” things, but whenever I sit at my computer I get the feeling that there are spiders crawling in my hair.

The book event I attended was for Daniel Paisner, and it was evident that his humor and intelligence are what makes him the go-to ghost writer for celebrities in the sports and entertainment world. He gave a lively and fun event while not saying anything critical about any of the personalities he’s collaborated with, which is saying a lot because he ghost wrote Ivanka Trump’s first book The Trump Card and I asked him specifically about that smug, dim-witted, crypto-Nazi bitch experience and he still did not have a bad world to say.

His discretion is another reason why he’s at the top of his profession.

But writing is basically a horrible profession that turns people into skin bags of regret, even for a writer as successful as Mr. Paisner. There he was, telling stories about the presidents and movie stars he’s met and worked with, and the weird places he’s traveld to with politicians and athletes, and the intimate conversations and lasting friendships he’s made with his high-achieving subjects, and a young guy in the back row raised his hand and asked Mr. Paisner the question we all were dying to ask: How does a person get into the ghost writing biz?

And Daniel Paisner told the young man that he (Daniel Passer) could not recommend, not at all, that anyone take that career path. Ghost writing (said Mr. Paisner) will kill the possibilities of your having a literary career. AS IF THAT WAS A BAD THING.

I’ve written three books, and the process is so horrible that I am loathe to subject myself to it for a fourth time. I don’t want to sit in a room for three years by myself, doubting every damn word I write, for less than minimum wage, just so some half wit can plaster a bad review about it on Amazon because she didn’t like it that I packed a cashmere sweater when I went to Paris. (True story.)

I will happily, merrily, with a song in my heart be glad to ghost write anybody’s book if it let me GET OUT OF THE HOUSE and meet interesting, non-writer people, travel on somebody else’s expense account, and make lots of money.

As it is, all I get are “offers” to” take dictation” from guys who “have a book inside me but I just doesn’t have the patience to write it”, a book that this busy person won’t pay me for because it’s “sure to be a best seller”.

Well. I only have myself to blame. I picked the worst time in history to be an author. Another writer beautifully described what the thrill of getting published is like these days: It’s like being a Russian Princess, but it’s the eve of the Revolution. 

I’m going to close here and check out my Fall Leaf situation in the refrigerator. But instead of tea, I think I’ll make me a cup of vodka and be thankful that I’m not successful enough to be plagiarized, which I hear is a big problem when you’re a famous writer (my writer’s career cup runneth over with half-fullness).

Have a great weekend, Dear Readers: May all your glasses be, like mine, half-full instead of half-empty, unless it’s a tea cup of vodka, and then make sure all your glasses are full.

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Fall, before it’s been Vivianized:

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Fall, after Vivian has made sense of it:

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Not just in my backyard. I take my Capricornian love of order out into the wilds of Long Island, too:

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I did this (below) in Virginia:

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This week should be the height of Fall color here in the American Northeast, and I should be hunting for my sample of Fall Leaf Perfection:

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Because this is the time of year when I paint my annual awesome Fall Leaf Landscape:

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(P.S. The real leaf is always on the right.)

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Group portraits:

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But this year, due to a very dry Summer, the colors of Fall are late blooming. Compare this view (below) of November 4, 2015 . . .

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. . . to the same scene exactly one year later in 2016:

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Compare this photo also from November 4, 2015 . . .

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. . . to what it looks like exactly one year later :

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So, although I have not found my Perfect Fall Leaf of 2016 yet, I did cross off Item #1 from my Winter Prep list:

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Stock Up on Champagne-O-Meters.

So, ’tis the season when your favorite stores start asking for a point-of-purchase donations to their preferred charities (food banks, hospitals, the like).

Being harassed by a cashier at your favorite store for a charity donation: Do you love it or hate it? And can we start a Move On petition to put an end to it forever?

 

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The fact that December is a Fall month has never been self-evident here on the north shore of Long Island, except for this year of Our Global Warming 2015.

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I have yet to wear my winter coat this season…and that’s never happened this far into the season.

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Please enjoy this pictures of Climate Change (and what the gardeners call “Winter Interest”), let me respond to some recent Comments to this Blog/Not Instagram.

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Linda June and Jeanie: I’m sorry for the confusion: My Damn Garden Book (Gardens of Awe and Folly) comes out on March 1, 2016. The various pre-reviews I’ve been bragging about in my posts come from industry publications that let book stores and libraries know what’s in the pipeline so they can plan their book-buying budgets. When the DGB comes out in the Spring there will be another round of reviews for the retail (individual) buyer. Sigh. The judging never ends.

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Mary: I went to Rio in my mid-30s for business (fancy auction hose business). I had never had Rio de Janeiro on my Must See List because face it, Brazil is a guy’s kind of place…but my visit there changed the way I looked at life on Earth. Read all about it in the DGB — I don’t mean to plug the Damn Garden Book but it’s a long story and, well, Iv’e already typed it once before.

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Megan: Is there a berry sushi (SUSHI??? That’s Auto Correct for “bush”) your garden? Were the berries fermenting? Birds are big boozers, you know. I think you might have had a drunk chickadee on your hands.

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Deborah: Great Instagram idea: Things I Pry Out Of My Puppy’s Mouth. No narrative necessary. And I’m with you about getting all three of my books reviewed in the New York Times. It’s the reason I check my e-mail every five minutes…I keep hoping that there’s a message from my agent telling me that I’ve landed the cover of the Sunday Times Book Review. OR, that Taylor Swift just tweeted a pic of the DGB cover to her 50 million followers. OR, that the Duchess of Cambridge was photographed carrying a copy of When Wanderers Cease to Roam. It’s sad how much mental energy I spend on the wishful thinking part of being an author.

Patricia: I saw a Stellar jay once in my life and it was FANTASTIC. I hope that when I come to Seattle on book tour that I get out to the woods to see another one. I’m greedy that way.

The next few photos are shots I took while driving. It’s been a rainy week and I like how the tree bark gets dark against the bright yellow foliage so I’ve been keeping my camera in my car to click while I pass the best views of these kinds of woods:

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Felicia: It’s all about the Grok, which is also a word I did not use because I think it’s a bit obscure but if you’ve read Stranger in a Strange Land and discounted all the dirty old man sexist stuff, you’ll know how good a word it is.

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I am crazy about tree forms this year and when I see a good tree on the side of the road, I either pull over so I can snap a picture of it (above), or I hope for a stop sign and come to a full stop (!!!), like I did here:

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Trees in the morning mist near the Dunkin Donuts on Northern Boulevard:

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Kirra and Carol, I’m looking at these trees with my Blue Jay eyes and I know I’ll use this in some future illustration, where these trees will be in their own forest far, far away from parking lots and T-Mobile stores.

Now this is where Top Cat says my blog posts always go on for too long. I can’t wrap this up until I send out these pix of (some) my cats, in a series I call Cats Contemplating Fall:

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And Diane in Denver, I didn’t gorget you! Last weekend T.C. and I and T.C.’s son from California walked in Caumsett State Historic Park in Huntington …

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…and I did! I did! I waved at the beautiful Long Island Sound for you!

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P.S. Is anybody reading this on an iPhone? And is the reading experience totally kattywampus (because I compose this on a big ancient 2011 iMac)? Just wondering, for when I ditch this old hardware and take up Instagram.

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