Sometimes I wish the seasons would stay put for a little longer--for here it is, already the seventh of October. Fall is nearly half-gone, yet the leaves are still too shy to turn completely, and though the crisp cold of arising Winter visits us mornings and nights, summer lingers in the daylight air.
Today I wore my fuzzy purple slippers outside, and followed the cat around until we both found ourselves sitting in the same spot, looking at the same orange leaves. I wonder if we were thinking the same thing, too. Most likely not. My thoughts rarely run by the way of mice.
There was a forgotten yellow watering can in the garden, surrounded by a tangle of weeds and flowers and what's leftover from our summer produce. We grew tomatoes and lettuce and corn and beans and everything you usually grow in a garden; it's all gone now--in the cellar and in our stomachs.
Mundane scenes. Yet comfy scenes. Like //
Brownies with a hole picked in them (not naming any names, but some people just can't wait!), warm and gooey with their rich Betty Crocker accents.
Little yellow pears from the orchard next door.
Little boys with orange hair and orange freckles and yellow bow ties.
And as evening begins, the half-eaten moon left small and lonely on its dusky blue plate.
..How is Fall ripening for you?