Saturday, September 13, 2025, 40.4*, 84% RH, 0725
At 37* we inspected the first glow of Saturday. Overnight it seems fall has been painting red leaves. Soleil paints leaves gold that turn green when she no longer favors them. Dew shines leaves, equipment, the fence, darkens the grassless black ground. I’m thankful for hot coffee, warm clothes, a blanket for my knees.
A Red Crossbill and an American Crow wait another hour before speaking. A Blue Jay chastens passing close to my window. Lulled by the song of warmth, a faint melody sung by the furnace, Ruger and Zayne sleep in the room behind me. Taking up a new morning place, Zsolt lies in the hall filling up what’s left of the walking through space, watching, muffing. Barrier between me and what may come. And so, it begins, the second Saturday of September.
We watch. We wait. We accept what comes next.
Photo: LJ Austin
