Time in Fiction

When it is going to be fall?

The weather outside is a miasma of abnormally high temps and sweltering humidity and—excuse me!—it’s October!

This is the first autumn in five years that I haven’t been tied up working the Green City Farmer’s Market. A number of circumstances conspired where for one reason or another I ended up not getting hired.

A little bittersweet. I loved have weekends off, but have missed the customers and the smells. Especially now as it is apple time. I used to work a stall that was next to the Nordic Cheese guy who once it started getting frosty brought in his wife to crank up a propane fryer in order to fry cheese!

Another stall had HOT apple cider.

One time, after a dreary morning of very few customers (and the ones that dared come out in the rain were there for business and not pleasure; they ran from stall to stall and then quickly left) so I was sent on an errand to the Zullo’s stand for some hot from the fryer Zeppole.

So right now I’m missing the market—and the cold mornings.

***

Nothing new to report as far as acceptances. I continue to submit flashes, stories, and other manuscripts. Except this past Thursday at the last session with Fred Shafer at OCWW my story was awarded a WONDERFUL critique. I loved the thoughtful comments and how truly engaged the class was with an awfully long story (yet less than 7,000 words). I’m already missing Fred Shafer’s TIME IN FICTION class.

Autumn: A time for missing what used to be. A time for leaving (leafing).