(From a New York Times article by Margaret Renkl)
Autumn light is the loveliest light there is. Soft, forgiving, it makes all the world an illuminated dream. Dust motes catch fire, and bright specks drift down from the trees and lift up from the stirred soil, floating over lawns and woodland paths and ordinary roofs and parking lots. It’s an unchoreographed aerial dance, a celebration of what happens when light marries earth and sky. Autumn light always makes me think of fiery motes of chalk dust drifting in the expectant hush of an elementary school classroom during story time, just before the bell rings and sets the children free.
In fall, the nights are cooler and clearer, too, with the harvest moon floating steadfast in the night sky, the most reliable promise in our lives. Along the roadsides, wildflowers are blooming: ironweed and white snakeroot and the glorious goldenrod, all as high as my head and all food for the monarch and painted lady butterflies, and the ruby-throated hummingbirds, on their long migrations. Every kind of New World warbler is on the wing now, heading south like the raptors and the water birds, but they linger a little while before moving on again, and for a time Tennessee is filled with exotic songs.
(If you want to read more, check it out here: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/20/opinion/our-days-have-always-been-running-out.html?referringSource=articleShare )
Watch The Goodness Project video — Stories of Our City: Susana Miranda
Susana talks about being in a touring theatre group in Cuba, the help she received from her friends during her move to Guelph, and her involvement with ballroom dancing.