autumn fruit

It is definitely now autumn, my most favorite season of the year.  People are reluctant to give into this one, playing games in the parks and strolling down the street even though now one needs a sweater and a hat.  Here in Santiago, the jugglers practice until they can no longer see, and lovers reluctantly head home from their nests on the park benches hours earlier than during the long summer days.  Cafés have closed their patios and the sting of warmth and smells of coffee and spice are bold as you open their doors.

I was gliding through the autumn air this evening, clutching my purse and bag of fruit.  It was dusk, and I had just caught the end of the market in Bellavista, called Vega, where fruit and vegetables are sold fresh daily.  I was pleased to discover a stand that sold the precious end of the season strawberries and raspberries.

I felt great pride as I crossed the river toward home, gazing at the outline of the churches and buildings against the darkening sky.  It reminded me of the important river views in my life - the view of Manhattan from the Q train as it crosses the river, the view of Notre Dame from the Seine - and now of Santiago.  Not the most romantic city, nor the most famous, but it has tremendous passion and care for the things that matter most.

This season, this city and I... we're going to be just fine.  It's becoming home.