It’s that perfect union where death becomes beauty before swallowing it whole- bits of brownish-cream playing at the edges of what’s left of the vibrant pink. In the grand fashion that is Autumn, I’m anticipating the blaze of glory that’s about to light up all the trees without an ounce of help from anything pumpkin spice. (Love the spice, just not the accompanying commercial bandwagon.) ♦
Some of the lovely autumn that happened outside my window this evening. ♦
The beginnings of some mushroom lentil soup. There’s a whole festival dedicated to the mighty lentil out in Pullman every year. They serve up a lentil pancake breakfast. Curious if they’re sweet or savory. ♦
Must I really get up and break this lovely cocoon I currently inhabit, suspended somewhere in the balance between brisk autumn air entering from the open window and the cozy warmth afforded by the comfort of down, i.e., the down comforter? ♦
Warm hearty breakfasts and a carpet of leaves to my car each morning! Just two of the many reasons I revel in the best of seasons. I declare my love of autumn in operatic tones regularly!
On the heels of the new season was a most wicked storm- nearly floated away this past weekend on a flooded stretch of road. Wet brakes are TERRIFYING, like roller skates down a steep hill, how was I gonna stop without scraping something up? ♦
This past autumn, I housesat. On the roster- two dogs, one cat, a bunny, a bird, and a beta. Here! This is Raskey, he made like glue, and Annie, she wasn’t far behind. I was never cold with these two around. I just love hot dogs.
Everyone should know their own name, yes? And fine feathered friends should be no different. I’d sit right up against the bird’s cage, peering in and calling out “casa,” fully expecting a “blanca” in response from the lovely little creature, appropriately white with a smattering of Crayola Sky Blue feathers. Though apparently, she didn’t wanna play it again. Ate up the attention, at least. As well as a strand of my hair.
I headed to the front door, unprepared to greet betrayal.
So, I’d done my duty, wrapped up my time sitting, and was all set to head out on the last day. It was a rainy one, and I’d stopped in over lunch with takeout chicken in tow. Hungry doggy eyes followed my every bite with laser precision to the very last. Tied up the bag of leftovers for disposal in the outdoor can. After saying “goodbyes” to my animal troupe and double checking this and that, I headed to the front door, unprepared to greet betrayal. I set the alarm, opened the door a tad, and- VWOOM, THEY WERE GONE! Nothing like double dachshunds bolting through your legs to make you feel completely powerless.
Standing in the driveway, attempting to assess the situation, the rain came down, and the dogs circled ever farther into the sprawling neighborhood beyond. I could see and hear the highway a short ways away. Calling them increased the frolic- walking towards, walking away, darting attempts- nothing was working. Then, they’re gone. Whatever to do … there’s rustling, plastic … wonderful wind rustled plastic! I untied the bag, began to bend down and outta nowhere run the pups straight at me. At the chicken! God bless chicken remnants! Suckers. Gotcha. Slippery wet little devils followed their noses and that bag right back into the house where they went on to nap with visions of chicken thumbs dancing in their heads, I’m sure. There’s a protein-based lesson here about hotdogs (all beef) and chicken, I just know it. ♦
Shan’s kitty, Bubba, passed away. Bubba had wonderful mitten feets. I’d admire those little feets from far across the room from time to time. Bubba was a light introduction into Roxy whom all but cured me of my kitty fear.
Roxy passed away last autumn and I laid in bed bawling afterwards. She gave me affection at times when I needed it most. And I her. The last week of her life she seemed a bit creeky and her coat lacked luster. It only occurred to me after what was to be the last time she jumped up on my lap that it may have been incredibly difficult for her to have done so. I hadn’t thought to enquire as to her age. Still wish I could go back in time and gently pick her up for that last bit of lap time. ♦