Gold

On the hike-and-bike trail this morning--light now at 6:30 since the time change--small golden leaves were spiralling down like coins all around the few of us early Monday souls doing penance for a weekend of sugary indulgence. It seems like such an appropriate currency for these times of economic uncertainty. Her gold reserve untarnished by the excesses and deceptions of Wall Street execs, Mother Nature showers blessings on all of us, regardless of our social standing, ethnic background, or political stripe. I hadn't really thought about it before, but there's a certain Mardi Gras feeling to autumn, with the status-leveling masked revels of All Hallows Eve, the vibrantly-colored leaves and fruits of harvest piled up everywhere like parade floats, and lavish, indulgent feasts to celebrate before winter wipes the slate clean for another year.

With Halloween already fading into the photobooks of memory, we're looking toward our season of thanksgiving, and even in the leanest of times, there is still much to be thankful for in America. While many of us may have less in our purses this year, the countryside is unequivocally and inclusively resplendent. We are rich in beauty, and this morning I feel the pockets of my spirit filled to bursting with nature's golden gifts.

Cheap Motel Neon

EYE CANDY: Outside my kitchen window last week, the sky was Egyptian faience blue behind a pack of ridiculous poodle clouds hurrying by. My neighbor's tin roof, jewelry-quality silver after a brief shower, sported a single gem--a lime green chameleon puffing out his bright red throat sac.

Today I set up shop at my first doll show in more than a decade. It was a fascinating experience, but successful only because my faithful friends showed up to offer support in countless ways. I am grateful to all of them for continuing to encourage me in this new adventure.

It's impossible to be in a great space filled with dolls and doll lovers without thinking about why dolls are so important to us. A recent New York Times article talked about how we are fascinated with anything that looks like us, and the author of that article would have had a field day where I was. Innate narcissism, I guess. But it's more than that, I think, given the hyper-realistic baby dolls that so many girls and women were cooing over and cradling in their arms. I couldn't help thinking of my niece and a good friend, each of whom is expecting her first child. One's in her twenties and the other's in her forties, and that's completely irrelevant.

Mother Nature is gorgeous, but she's not terribly subtle. That chameleon with his cheap motel neon neck is just a reminder that every spring, we're all getting the same text message from the universe: "make more, make more, make more." For some of us, the response is new babies. For others, it's dolls.

Stay tuned here for what's new at my house.