Going to the cabin today is crazy. We’re missing all kinds of things at the college. Yet I feel I can do no other. I feel leaden, locked into fate. I have to get away. I’m frantic for rest—for time to read, sleep, dream, write, pray. I am no use to the college if I let it and its problems consume me alive and ravage my soul.And the gorgeous beauty of this day! Blue tones predominate in the palette, especially as we crossed the Arkansas River, where a fine haze shrouded the encircling hills, turning sky, river, and treetops into a wreath of blue into which muted fall colors were set.
The varied and rich beauty of this day—a day that never will be again, whose combination of light and moisture is unique to this day—praises the Lord. Rich stands of fall-turning cypress in Lake Conway and past Pickles Gap; glinting scimitars of water in brown rice stubble in the beautiful, fertile valley between Little Rock and Conway.
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Light: the unexpected gift. After three overcast days, to see bright sun beaming into our valley, illuminating the hillside across the creek with its carpet of brown leaves. The gray tree trunks are alive with light; every striation, every protrusion, every lichenous patch is sharply illuminated. The layers of sandstone, darkly shaded or brightly lit, etched in detail more exquisite than jeweler’s work.
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