In the Rafters

We had a bunch 'o' visitors over the weekend so my poor boy Rocco the Not-So-Fierce was back up in the basement rafters. Again. Poor scared, scarred boy.

I was able to tempt him out at supper time with a bit of baked chicken breast. Yes, stunning amounts of pampering. I know.  


There's a definite, solid state chill in the air now. Our brief dalliance with late summer temps, with afternoons in the mid 70s, being able to casually sit out on the veranda in the gathering gloaming is, I think, done for the year. Time to break out the lap rugs and spark up the outdoor fireplace.

Fair enough. It IS late October after all. Sigh.

I suppose this also means that it's time to don sneaks versus sandals, socks (!), light scarves and my wooly autumn jacket too.

FINE as long as the snow holds off until at least late December. FINE.

Unknown to birds and butterflies
A flower blooms
The autumn sky

In the bitter radish that
bites into me, I feel the
autumn wind

On this road
where nobody else travels
autumn nightfall
~Matsuo Basho

Autumn Movement

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things
       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,
       not one lasts.
~Carl Sandburg