One lone wasp tried to invade our dinner last night.
The owlets have fledged.
The dry grasses on the California hillsides, once long and wavy, have been eaten to the nubs by the Angus cattle grazing across from our gate. Angus calves are being born each night.
The squirrels have snatched every last walnut off our trees. The locust trees are dropping their dollar-shaped leaves. The rattlesnake I killed last week has been eaten by the buzzards.
I’ve switched from short to long yoga pants. My windbreaker is on the floor of my closet.
The yellow, blue, and orange umbrellas on our patio are arguing with me.
Dinah is beginning to grow her winter coat.
The ivy on the house is turning color. All the rats must be disappointed.
Everyone is settled into school.
I become sentimental this time of year.
My gratefulness increases like the soup cans in my pantry.