When It Comes To Thanksgiving

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Fall leaves fall,
die flowers away.
    Lengthen night
and shorten day."
- Emily Bronte

an abundance of quince

I have roses in bloom, and an abundance of quince: so much to be grateful for when it comes to Thanksgiving. Why today I unexpectedly found two large potatoes in the garden quite by accident. Yesterday it was a cucumber without really meaning to. So I consider myself lucky at a time when the sun shines strangely hot, day in and day out. Where praytell, is the cold weather?

A friend was saying, or writing rather, and I have to agree, one has to be terribly selective to the point of almost joining up with a monk in a stupa in order to maintain ones's sense of well being given the onslaught of negative news. This morning, just to be radical, I stubbornly read a book in bed, and tonight, I might be equally stubborn and finish it. Selective filtering.

The truth is that I'd rather not know. As a consequence, it's rather peaceful. Fortunately they say the power of prayer has impact so there is a bit of list rolling outward from this neck of the woods. Sometimes it's all one has. That and Quince Tarte Tatin. Quince is full of surprises as it turns out. 

Season Of Mists

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Season of mists
and mellow fruitfulness..."
    To Autumn - John Keats

The interview time was actually placed in my calendar. That's how fooled I was. Season of mists, alright. What with all this talk of artificial intelligence going sideways I expected more of myself. That I would be smarter. 

Being out there on social media attracts a lot of weird proposals like do I want my office cleaned, or promoting my website, and lately it has been promotions, with a slurry of book club offerings. Then came a letter from a publisher wanting more of my writing. I looked him up. New York. Quite famous. But I knew any editor of his caliber does not solicit, it is exactly the opposite. Nor would he have time to compose a lengthy, detailed, and, the tip-off, flattering letter with perfect composition. Just in case, I wrote the publisher and actually got a reply confirming the letter was not from them. 

But this week's solicitation had me fooled. It was from a radio personality in London, England. The emails were somewhat personalized so it felt less like I was dealing with a form letter. I wrote the station to be sure. Then, after I agreed, the hit came - the request for money... three tiers of payment depending on how much media exposure I opted for.

No thank you. Is this what you call a non-person player (NPC)? Without soul? The radio station has yet to reply. Maybe they think I am an NPC impersonating being scammed.