Photos by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, from November 7, 8, and mostly 13
It is very hard in San Francisco, in autumn, to be unhappy if you love color and light, even if a storm is at your heels, even if the change of season is not at all to your liking in the political climate of your nation.
Sometimes the most profound thing to do is to continue to find ways to stay encouraged, keep moving, and rest when necessary.
I had a day this week of knowing that rain was coming on two days, so I set myself up to get ahead and behind the storm of the first of those days. Would I have time to make it to any park with the timing as it was? I would see as I went. The above view is looking easterly from where I was at that moment, but a southern view from a little closer to home already looked like this when I got out in the early morning.
Thus, while I was in San Francisco's famed Castro District, high on its equally famous Market Street doing business, the outliers of the storm overtook me, but not before this golden-edged ginkgo had its last moment in the sun.
Before long, the skies were completely gray, although a holly tree peeked through a cherry blossom tree to make the situation more colorful.
Gray skies, gray streets, short days, but still intense light, too diffusely bright to make getting good photographs of trees easy -- at such times of working through cooler bright weather, I have my share of autumny music to keep things moving ... while I have discovered Anton Bruckner's D minor mass, and while the Kyrie is the ultimate in autumn hues in music looking toward the gravity of winter, sometimes one needs both the autumn hues and a bit more bounce to keep moving ahead of the storm. So I rediscovered Roland Kovaĉ, and my favorite piece by him, as my autumn walking piece ... the tone colors are right for the city now that autumn has asserted itself in its cooler half, and the beauty and rhythm of "Mediterranea" are right for the overcast skies and the sidelights that autumn hues make in it as we just keep moving ...
As I was proceeding down Market and then in parallel streets, it dawned on as I kept up a good pace that it still might not be enough. The speed and time at which the sky was becoming smoothly overcast was telling me something else ... the forecast was going to be off by 3-4 hours ... but I was out early enough so that there still did not need to be a great hurry, so, I cut through Duboce Park ... the little dog in the lower right-hand corner did not lead me wrong...
... and I ran into summer, still holding on as it does tend to do here, before I moved on.
Life finds a way, even in the first week that the inevitability of winter has made itself truly felt ... I loved seeing these flowers and their concentration of the blue that was not in the sky ...
... but, upon proceeding down the street further, I was finally rattled and stopped for quite some time ... life finds a way, but so does death ... an evergreen bush of two had died in poised golden splendor in spite of the rain we had before this ... there would be no return for it.
What had happened? That was the question so many had in the streets of San Francisco about the election and now about what life in the United States would be like ... and it was the question I had wondered about all that had happened since 2022 in a different form: why? However, this visual reinforced the lesson I had been getting that prepared me for the reality of life: it was pointless to waste time trying to figure it out. What was done could not be done, and it was not a good use of die Erinnerung, of memory and the energy one can invest there, to even go over it. I had done all I could in every way. Now, I had to keep moving, leaving the "what if" and "why" behind me. I would carry the deep sadness with me ... but forward ... that storm was still coming.
I have studied clouds and the development of storms from quite young, and so as long as you can see the different layers of the clouds distinctly, it is not likely to rain ... but when the sky is a flat gray, look out. What that means is that the lower nimbus clouds -- regular everyday rain clouds -- are now dominating the scene from the view of us on earth, and what it also means is that the more organized part of the storm -- often called the storm front -- has arrived.
By this time I had made it up to my business in Haight Street, and upon completing it, wheeled around to within sight of Alvord Lake, its nearest trees and the nearest bush clad in bronze ...
... but the smoothness of the sky above them told me I might not have time to do what my heart deeply desired, although the wind had not changed yet ...
... and then, because there was no sunlight to cast a shadow, someone managed to get his umbrella opened over me without me knowing he was coming ... then again, the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past didn't cast a shadow, and neither did his ethereal and stupidly large umbrella.
"I will see your 'what pain?' and raise you a 'what rain?', Frau Mathews!"
Of course I rolled laughing, and that reminded me of a Bach-tinged beauty of a song, for piano and string orchestra, by Mr. Kovaĉ ...
... and I thought of how, in spite of all that I had to do, and in spite of the forecast being wrong, I would now have time to be in two parks for some time on this day ... He Who continued to order my steps so that even in a workaday world with a storm in route I would have time to refresh myself was showing me that even in the times to come, as it had been in times past, I would be lovingly cared for.
"And I am but the echo," my companion said as he put down the umbrella with a smile, "although I must say Roland Kovaĉ is doing such a marvelous job I am almost superfluous today. He began his prime musically around the same time I did, while you were a twinkle in your father's eye in the late 70s and while you were a wee little one in the early 80s ... you are consistent in your 20th century musical loves, Frau Mathews."
"I do enjoy Mr. Kovaĉ very much," I said as I embraced him, "but you know I am stubborn about my favorites."
"I do know, Frau Mathews," he purred with a smile as he returned my embrace. "I decided to come not least because I had occasion to survey the storm front on my way -- we have 90 minutes or so before the rain is here. So, we will not need the umbrella: there is time enough for us to go around the lake and for you to have lunch before we retreat, and there will be time enough afterward for you to complete the day's work and be at home again before the sun goes down."
Alvord Lake is the ideal autumn place to be if one wants to see an autumn day transmuted into silver serenely rippling on emerald waters, with gold scattered upon those same waters ...
... and reflections upon the beauty of life even in gray moments ...
... and the grace to be permitted to still be moving, to still see all things meant to live being cared for beautifully even as a storm, and all of winter, approached.
"And Frau Mathews, remember ... spring will come again."
A splash of blue amidst the gold ... the usual late fall irises, thinking it was already spring, were in bud at the lake...
... and much of the summer's gold was mingled there with the fall's gold ...
... and some of those lilies were defiantly rocketing upward in bud ... that bush that had bloomed at that spot as if its summer of love had begun again on Halloween in the sudden radiance of my companion's joy was insisting on continuing its response ...
... and I smiled, for I had determined that was going to be my attitude too ... a perennial "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me 'Round."
There was quite a gust of wind for just a moment, but my companion stepped in front of me and blocked it ... time was passing, although it was hard to even think that anything like a storm might come to that place in its peace ...
... but I also realized: what time you arrived and who you are with has a lot of influence on one's experiences. My companion tended to get between me and any serious wind, and he had made it his business to have observed the storm in its approach ... this was an object lesson. I had been brought to peace at a place that those who came later simply would not know as peaceful, and had been given information that all I needed to do was take heed to.
"Walk up before me to that second-nearest seat, Frau Mathews ... there the winds are still light, and the view is lovely."
"Do we have time to go get lunch and bring it back?" I said, and he laughed.
"Meine liebe Dame, just understand that if a proper Teutonic gentleman has mentioned that you have time to have lunch and calculated it, and is not immediately going into a place where there is food, he has already been there and made arrangements!"
He had walked down Haight Street before surprising me ...
... and also gently advised me without a word: he was preparing to get into a Teutonic gentleman's proper holiday form ... and indeed he knew me, for Tony's Chocolonely is made with fair trade chocolate ... no near-slavery in its making ...
"These matters, so small to so many, are going to become of even greater importance as the consequences of the election roll -- you have been standing against the chattel-making of other human beings, so I encourage you, in every act that you may thus decide, to continue to stand, Frau Mathews.
"Now, I know you are about to tell me: that's too much for you to eat at once, and it is ... but the chocolate is for tomorrow when you can share it at tea with Frau Mathews your mother. I have it on good authority that you shall have dessert from the Blessed Hand for today, so, enjoy your lunch."
Roland Kovac's "Your Tenderness" just started rolling in my head again ...
"You're going to have me so spoiled," I said aloud.
"On purpose," he said, with a smile that vanished into paternal grimness. "It means your life, Frau Mathews, and that of the young women who look to you as a model, that you continue your high standards of the men permitted anywhere around you. Herr Mathews your father taught you well. Your grand old soldier modeled well. I intend to reinforce all of that. No man should approach you and be part of your life if he does not come with generous, loving intent as how he lives and moves. Remember why, Frau Mathews, of all singers across all time that you might have brought to Q-Inspired across the portal of imagination, why you chose me -- what you heard of my heart, in addition to my voice. Bear in mind why you allow Eric Hollaway and Kevin Maynor into your ears. It is your life now, and those of the younger women who look to you, that you be who you are called to be, and entertain nothing and no one who would pull you from that.
"You are in a position in life in which things would have to get politically very bad indeed to threaten you in the depth of your quiet, peaceful, and quite effective life, unless you let your guard down and invite the type of man your country wishes to empower at the moment into your life, unless you invite the type of woman that thinks their life depends on pleasing such men and making chattel of other women to do it, and unless you allow your natural compassion to allow you to get submerged in the turmoil about to be experienced by those who have made no preparation for the coming times."
I shuddered at the thought of where I had been ... had I stayed, and not climbed out -- for 27 years, to say nothing of 29 months -- it was an even more terrifying thought than it had been before the election. It was nightmare worthy ... but for a different day, for it was not the nightmare I lived with in the streets of my city. Here, my habits to seek peace had brought me to it even on a day that would soon storm,.
"No one may prevent the storm, and winter itself, from coming, but if one hears the call of wisdom and love, one may find refuge from whence it comes, and be safe there ... and if not alone, then safe among others who accept the responsibility of being stewards of that safety."
"The reminder is appreciated," I said as I opened my eyes, and then gratefully noticed his arms were open ... what an object lesson in that immense, warm embrace!
"Enjoy your lunch, Frau Mathews. We have about 75 minutes now."
"Thank you for the big beautiful burrito ... that will get me through until I get finished with everything for the day," I said as I unwrapped it.
"That was the plan, for after retreat is rest."
Soon enough, we got moving ...
... and made our way down Haight Street and then down the lower half of Buena Vista Hill as the sky became darker ... but along the way my attention was riveted by a tree that seemed to be covered in golden beads...
"I've never seen one go yellow quite like that," I said. "Even assuming autumn, wow."
"Go find out, Frau Mathews," he said with a smile. "Because we did not linger too long at the lake, we have time for that and a few other things."
One of those autumn phenomena in San Francisco: some trees are having their autumn and spring at the same time ...
... and so some trees' leaves are turning yellow while others have golden shoots in bud!
Not far from there, there was more agreement on the season ...
... but nestled under an autumn-compliant tree on the hill ...
... there was a currant tomato bush still enjoying its summer, and thus came dessert from the Blessed Hand to me, in sweet abundance ... they are delicate and so I could not fill my hand with them for a good picture, but there were several nice little bunches like this, sweet and delicious to the point that the chocolate posed no temptation for me.
"Much sorrow, Frau Mathews, has and will come to many who think that the election has given or taken away their access to the trinkets of status and luxury in the world," my companion intoned. "Much anguish will come to those on both sides of that entitled mindset ... but for you, who has learned to be loved and blessed by the simplest things because of where, and from Whom they come, there will still be no lack of abundance. Unless there is a harsher winter than San Francisco usually has, there will be fruit here at least through December ... and everywhere that you have planted seed, Frau Mathews, it still must come up, unless your nation enters a winter for which neither it nor the world are prepared ... but even then, mein geliebtes Blumenkind, your alto seat above in the presence of Him Whom you love so greatly and have served as faithfully as you know how -- your seat is ready.
"I have been saying to you from the beginning: no fear, only rest ... rest in faith, hope, and love, even now, and walk as you are called, and all things will be provided for you as you go, including your being entrusted with things that others in the world would find too tempting, but that you will safely steward to be shared appropriately."
He smiled.
"You have nine-figure responsibility in San Francisco, Frau Mathews, without the least shade of impropriety, so I know that Mother Mathews will get her half of that chocolate!"
"Of course," I said.
He grinned.
"If, perchance, you ever become a rich woman -- as well you may -- understand that it will be because you share your chocolate, Frau Mathews, and you are consistent in habit."
I chuckled.
"Wow," I said.
"She that is faithful in little is faithful in much, and vice versa -- the principle always holds!"
The wind blustered a little, and he added, "But the weather is not going to hold much longer -- now we must go!"
I made it home with a mere 20 minutes to spare before the rain, and having some hours before me should have been ready for some rest, but I had been working through some afternoons, and sleep was not always easy to find at the opportune moment.
But when the Knockout Zone's administrator is in your home, looking through the window and thinking of Brahms, that is not a problem after all ... he turned around with a sweet smile and sang me to sleep with "Auf dem Kirchhofe," about a man who works to pull weeds and clear up a graveyard in a great storm, but is lifted into a vision of the eternal light in which the blessed departed forever rest, far beyond the troubles of this world... and then of serenely going to that rest in "Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht."
The timestamp is 19:57 ... enjoy those last two and loveliest of songs from this collection of ten!
His stage timing was still impeccable ... for he had surveyed that storm, and already knew where the edge was, and how soon it would reach my home. He picked up my phone, sang to it softly and unlocked it, and captured this dream of a photo for us while I rested:
... and when I next opened my eyes, the sky was blue and the rain had ceased entirely ... though it was getting late and I had to hustle ... but it was hard to be in a hurry in a blue beautiful late afternoon in San Francisco, in autumn, when finally the work is done and one is headed home for good...
... and the soft fire of sunset seems to have gently pulsed into every tree in its preparing to rest ...
"And there is no need to hurry or worry, Frau Mathews. You have embraced the grace of being able to be keep moving, and also the grace to rest -- and you are given both, equally. That is more than many shall ever know in this world, and a sufficient lesson for this week. Keep going. Take rest as wisdom and love offer it to you -- and refuge, when needed, where they abide. Keep going."