Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Apparently, I jumped the gun, and today is the first day of autumn. Either way, it was 40 degrees this morning, and it looks to be one of those lovely early-fall days: cool in the morning, the fog burns off, and lovely/warm/sunny in the afternoon. I sure hope so. I'm contemplating ditching my chore list after work and instead, picking apples with Holly outside. We can't get 'em all (I'm too short), but we could get some picked. And I will definitely cover the squashes, as the night-time temps are expected to be a bit too close to frost for my comfort (or theirs, to be honest).  This silly head cold is making my brain mushy, which is truly inconvenient. I'll muddle through, though. Today, it's Marlowe and Raleigh, and possibly jumping into Spenser as well. The APLang kids will have enough to do, too. We have an essay to read/discuss, and there is a small AP practice thing I need to set up for them. Ah, the joys of working on multiple choice in a digital format. Y...

The yo-yo of night-time temps: today, I woke up to 49 degrees. Which is notable, not only because the last few nights have hovered around 34, but that yesterday's high was 50. So be it. And it's officially autumn, the equinox having passed while we were busy being cold and damp. Thank goodness for the pellet stove.  I likely will not light it today; G wants to do a thorough cleaning (he's been "meaning to" since June), and I hope he does that tonight after dinner. Cooler days are with us, but the forecast is for days in the 60s, so we'll manage anyhow if he doesn't do it right away. He's got to replace the door seal, too, so it'll likely become a project.  Today, after work, I'll be cutting up tomatoes. Not the green ones; those are still on the vine. And the squashes are still hanging in there. And I hope they continue to do so, because I have other forms of house chores to attend to, and I managed to get a touch of Holly's cold, so I feel...

Heaven help us, 'tis 34 degrees, friends. I need to find some old tablecloth to cover the squash--not that there's a lot of hope, but I have a couple of mini-butternuts (yeah, about the size of a double shot glass), and a couple of four-inch zukes out there. G says we should rescue the rest of the green tomatoes, but there aren't that many. Which, to be fair, is a good thing-- Meg, Holly, and I went out and picked all the ripe ones, found a good bit of green beans, and snagged a few apples. I want to make a pie later today. But, because we don't spray our trees, there is a little more effort required in order to cut off the bruises and bug/bird nibbles. No matter, it'll warm the house up. G says that he'll fill up the pellet stove today for a test run. I think that's a good idea; let's make sure it works, eh? ugh. The woes. It's getting old, but we've replaced various (all?) of the parts here and there. In the meantime, I have a new plaid fleece ...

It'd be really difficult to deny that autumn is upon us, regardless of the calendar. Foggy mornings, chill temps, and bright sunny afternoons are all lovely. But sad, too. I really need to gird myself to go out to the garden boxes and consider what to keep and what to let go.  I suppose there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm not pushing for it. I'm tired. School and home chores and so on-- that's enough to occupy my mind and energy lately. There's so much I want to get done, but it would require some help, so I will likely try, metaphorical hat in hand, to see if there's any chance of Meg helping me do some of the things. She's got her own list of stuff to contend with, so I hate to ask. But tomorrow, when G is home, the weather is supposed to be just awful-- mid-50s and pouring rain. Not a good day to do anything much except bake and grade papers, and yell at football (of course).  It always makes me sad to see the garden go. I had such plans. I...

If you know me, then you know I have an astounding collection of nerdy/sarcastic tee shirts. Mostly short sleeve, but some long, so today, as it's "casual Friday," there should be no surprise anywhere for anyone I'm wearing one of my stellar assortment. (And before you say, hey, there's a lot of ego there, let's just say, one must fake it 'til they make it, and these shirts help.) Today's offering: Em-dash energy-- Oxford comma values. And I can pretty much guarantee that NO one will know what it means. And that it pretty much sums up the contradictions (complexity?) that is me. Whitman would approve: "I contain multitudes." It galls me that one of the so-called "tells" that people use to assert that something is AI-generated is the use of em-dashes. Dang it all. I love those. And I use them.  My brain likes to interrupt itself, and when I'm writing -- and speaking, but you can't see them if it's a spoken sentence-- I in...

I woke up with " Losing My Mind " from Follies in my head. I have no clue why. Just the last two phrases on repeat, actually: All afternoon Doing every little chore The thought of you stays bright Sometimes I stand in the middle of the floor Not going left Not going right I dim the lights And think about you Spend sleepless nights To think about you You said you loved me Or were you just being kind? Or am I losing my mind? And before anyone thinks there's trouble in my personal little paradise, there isn't. It's bigger than that, I think. Reading about forklifts ramming the columns at the Kennedy Center to inflict intentional damage, to justify the stranglehold that is being enacted on the institution and, by extension, all of us, is enough to make a person question their sanity.  The arts keep us alive. They recount the trials, tribulations, loves, sorrows, and aspirations of the Collective. And here's one Philistine kicking over a sandcastle not of his makin...