Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Our neighbor Andrés is out on his sidewalk raking dozens of tough, prickly seed pods from his liquidambar tree. “Malditos loros!” “Damn parrots!” It is late fall and the city’s Quaker parrots gorge on the seeds, knocking the round pods to the sidewalk. You walk through them at your own risk. Trilling notes from high in the treetops tell me the wild canaries have arrived. They, too, come for the seeds.

                            

    I nominate the gingko’s magnificent saffron yellow attire as the most spectacular of the fall colors.
    It rained last night. This morning I take our grand-dog, Frida, out for a walk. She sniffs along the ground and I lift my nose upwards to inhale the exhilarating fresh air laden with rich wet smells. In the distance, fresh snow covers the mountains, so very white.
    Yesterday, it rained and thundered and hailed and even snowed in some sectors of town. This morning our city lies in the white embrace of the Andes. At noon, it is just 45 degrees in the sun.
    One of fall’s small pleasures is putting out the hummingbird feeder. Santiago’s hummers move out of town during spring and return in fall. The cold weather reminded me that I’d forgotten to put the feeder out. I felt guilty. Where would they get their sugar fix? Now on this sunny day, they careen about competing for the feeder.
    Today is grey and cold. The perfect weather to read and savor a thick chunk of dark chocolate. I'd decide it's time to take on a challenge and read Virginia Woolf. I choose “To the Lighthouse.” It is not a book to read in bed, and even in mid-afternoon, I find my head getting heavy. It’s just not a page- turner. But, when I’m feeling more alert, I forge ahead, determined.
    To brighten our garden I buy four primulas. I yank out the wilting petunias from the blue pot, replacing them with the primulas. Since I’m outside, I’ll do a bit of pruning – the hydrangea and my one rose. My aching back tells me to stop.

                    

All of my fall musings seem insignificant after watching the German documentary “Aquarius- Rescue in Deadly Waters.” Shocking. Deeply disturbing. 

                    

    The photographer takes us aboard the Aquarius, the Mediterranean rescue ship, where we witness a boatload of frightened immigrants grabbing onto the life jackets thrown to them and struggling to leave their fragile inflatable vessel to board the safety of the rescue ship. Tears well up as I listen to their stories. Newborn babies are passed to outstretched arms.  In Libya, because they are black, they’re treated worse than animals. They are fleeing poverty and violence, just as the Central Americans arriving at the U.S. border.

 
PLEASE  watch this documentary.