Avery went down to the water for a few minutes with his phone, not because he had something to say. The creek was moving, the trees were yellow, mostly, and one green leaf hung so close to the lens it took up more of the picture than it had any right to. He nearly moved it. He didn't.
An essay on how fast fall happens in the mountains and how everyone in Colorado says the same sentence about it every year; on a man who can turn a chair facing the wrong direction into a four-part emotional thesis, attempting restraint; on the trees, which are not performing a lesson and do not have Instagram accounts; on change that never waits until the previous version of your life has been properly archived; on the hour when the windows are still bright and the room has started glowing back, gold outside, amber in, the glass holding both; on photographs, which keep the light and nothing else; on enough, which has a bad reputation and deserves better; and on the difference between having evidence and having been there.
Inside the episode, in the rest after the river, a small song of the house: Keeping September Company, an instrument alone, with the words spoken over it. Stay a little longer, while the light is gold.
There is soup. Potato and leek, with the last of the green stirred in off the heat so it stays green, written for nine thousand feet: averylanemaxwell.com/kitchen/the-september-soup/
Filmed by Avery on the riverbank in Frisco, the day the essay was written.
⌂ Every episode, and the films: averylanemaxwell.com/podcast · the letters, every one open to read: averylanemaxwell.com/letters · the rooms of the house: averylanemaxwell.com/sky · the kitchen: averylanemaxwell.com/kitchen
♫ The Galena House playlist: open.spotify.com/playlist/55wkYr82P02Tsr4zgKZubw
A note from the house: this is a personal podcast. Avery tells these stories as he remembers and understands them, from his own life and perspective. When other people wander into them, he protects what belongs to them; some details are changed or left out for that reason.
- (00:00) - The Part That Stays Green.
- (00:12) - A small note before we begin.
- (00:39) - The leaves are louder than they look.
- (02:15) - A few weeks ago I said the aspens had started.
- (03:21) - I have been trying not to make fall mean too much.
- (05:42) - I do not mean this sadly.
- (06:50) - The water was cold.
- (08:11) - I came back inside afterward.
- (09:51) - We ask ourselves for such clean transitions.
- (12:18) - I think that is why I took the video.
- (13:42) - There is a temptation this time of year to hurry
- (14:54) - Stay a little longer, while the light is gold.
- (16:32) - Outside, the aspens are going to keep changing
- (17:32) - Maybe that is all I wanted to bring you today.
- (18:34) - I am Avery Lane Maxwell.