It's time to go. Tomorrow morning Diana will come and pick me up, we'll have lunch in Johnson, and then it's back to Florence, Mass., for a couple of days. Then home on Sunday. I can't wait to see William.
It seems strange I'm sitting here looking at the changing leaves over the river in Vermont and soon I'll be gone. I'm so here, now, and I'll be so gone, then. When I'm about to leave a place I feel such a dislocation. Like I have one foot in Vermont and one in Texas. It's been a wonderful time. I'll miss my little studio. It'll be weird not to see Jaclyn and Letitia and all the VSC residents who have become such familiar faces. I'll probably never see most of them again. This after seeing them several times a day, every day, for a month.
It was cold last night. I had to get up and put long johns and a flannel jacket on over my pj's and sweatshirt. It was too cold to sleep for a little while. The heat didn't seem to come on last night.
There was maybe the final bonfire last night. More people were there than I've ever seen, all gathered around the big fire. People roasted weenies and marshmallows. They burned a broken wooden chair, the artists taking pictures of the destruction of the chair.
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