Ninety degrees today in beautiful downtown Burbank where I live with a killer roommate (killer as in capital K Kool versus a bloodthirsty lady; she also hates the letter K being used for a word like kute or krazy so she may cill me) in a house built for little people in the 1920's. (mini-ode to Faulkner finished) My mind is like a tree full of red, yellow and orange leaves as I declare this day officially fall. Now for folks like me who will be spending fall in LA; Thanksgiving and Christmas in Orlando, Florida (playing the mother in A CHRISTMAS STORY for Gramercy Theatre), fall must become a state of mind. I'm a fall kinda girl. All the promise of the holidays with none of the stress or let down they may bring. In my heart, fall is the scene from TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD when Gem and Scout are coming home through the woods after a carnival in which Scout has appeared as a squash (I think). The wind is blowing danger all around them, haunted by racism and the changing south. Ok, fall to me is a crisp late afternoon in Greenville, Mississippi by the fabulous graveyard surrounded by the brick wall and dripping with ghosts disguising themselves as hanging moss from ancient trees. That's what I long for. The mystery, the snap of cool air and an ache in my heart. What is fall to you? By the way, the above painting is by the exquisite Wyatt Waters of Clinton, Mississippi.
