Transition

So here we are in the first days of Post-Summer. The sun is rising later and setting earlier. Even near high noon shadows are lengthened as the sun falls short of its mid-summer zenith. The air takes on a crisp quality. In the space of a single step from sun to shade the temperature may change ten degrees. Shrubs and trees are shedding nuts and berries that animals eagerly round up for their larders.

While daylight hours have lessened, there is a certain comfort to spending a little extra time indoors. We rediscover the pleasure of lingering in an easy chair after dinner and on weekend mornings. We anticipate recipes untasted since last year such as pumpkin pies and ginger breads.

Closets are reordered, drawers are shuffled, and the mere act of moving warmer clothes from back to front stirs thoughts of hay wagons and fire pits. We ponder the camaraderie that comes from toasting smores and sharing warmed cider.

These early days of Post-Summer offer much in the way of comfort,

Empty Battery

Sometimes there's just nothing there.  You reach down into that creative corner of yourself and find an empty room.

And while empty moments can be great for recharging batteries, it does nothing for getting words on paper.

Unlike the energizer bunny's consistent drumming, creativity doesn't always just keep on ticking - at least not in a manner that results in a pleasing read.

So here's wishing everyone a great weekend - hopefully things will be better on the flip side.

Putting a Phrase to Use

Sometimes you come across the perfect situation for those phrases that find their way into our vocabularies.

Take the case of the man who was obviously making changes to his living arrangements.  He first caught my attention when he made a precarious turn into the lane of traffic in front of me.

Precarious because the back of his pickup truck was piled high with a bureau, chairs, bookcase, and mattresses.  The household furnishings were lashed together haphazardly - the attempt at restraint obviously insufficient to prevent any one item from toppling over the edge.

As I got closer, my attention was drawn to a metallic gleam - and I realized the man had truly taken everything including the kitchen sink!

A Broken Cycle

The cherubic face was so out of place on the hulk of a man that those around him were captivated by his seemingly innocent charm.

But there was nothing innocent about the man. I knew him from before, knew of his twisted and demented  passion. A passion for inflecting pain.

He was close enough that I could say nothing without tipping my hand so I tried to communicate my pleas for help with facial gestures, head nods, and body shrugs. Those I sought help from acknowledged my urgency, but when they looked into the man's boyish face they dismissed my concern.

I knew what would come next. I had lived this nightmare before. Eventually I would manage to struggle awake drenched in my own sweat but not before the tortures I was yet to experience set my heart drumming and my pulse  pounding.

And then a new face, a person who had not been there before. A small thing, but enough for my subconscious to accept the dream need not play out as before.

I woke gasping for breath, the ethereal arms of my would be tormentor trying to drag me back into sleep - and almost succeeding as the wooded lot of my dream solidified - superimposed over my bedroom walls.

Reaching for the switch on the bedside lamp, I half expected my movement to be blocked and my hands trussed behind my back as had happened in past occurrences of this nightmare.

Relief washed over me as light flooded the room. The hulking man with the cherubic face was banished. Yet I fought the return of sleep for hours to come.

Squirrel Mumps?

When I first saw the squirrel scrambling down the tree I thought it had a series case of the mumps. It seemed the squirrels cheeks were enlarged far beyond anything nature had intended.

Curious, I sat patiently and waited for the bushy tailed critter to work its way closer. The squirrel slowed its descent as though sensing my presence and worrying about entrapment. He scrambled to the far side of the tree trunk, then cautiously poked his head around the corner.

It was then that I was able to see the squirrel had hit the jackpot. Not only were his cheeks stuffed full, but in his teeth he carried a twig with an acorn on either end - like a nut barbell.

Finally satisfied I meant no harm the squirrel made its was to the ground and scurried off to bury its horde.

The Good Ship Mayflower

It all started this day (Sept 16) back in 1620.  A bunch of folks who came to be known as pilgrims piled into the Mayflower and set sail across the Atlantic in search of a new world.

In this day of cruise ships the size of cities sailing the oceans, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that the Mayflower was only 100 feet long. Only slightly longer than three stretch limos placed end to end. One hundred and two passengers, along with goats, sheep, and chickens were packed into that ship in conditions so tight that anyone over five foot had to hunch over to stand upright.

Today I could not even imagine a hundred people agreeing to take on the Atlantic Ocean in a ship that size. The entire vessel would disappear between ocean swells during a raging storm.

Nor can I imagine what conditions might have been like back then to drive people to agree to make that crossing. 

If ever there were heroic explorers - these folks take the top of the list.

Off to the Races?

Baby sitting duty tonight. At only five months of age my granddaughter is standing on her own feet as long as she has someone else's finger to hang onto for balance.  She hasn't hit the crawling stage and I'm guessing never will.  It would be like expecting someone was going to ride a bike everywhere they went after having purchased their first car.

Is this all part of the newest generation? Is genetic evolution causing kids to race out of the gate?

I'm hoping not.  There's a lot to be said for slow and steady.