Wednesday, November 5, 2025, 38.6*, 87% RH, 0826
Mariah gathered leaves from the ground, flew them again higher higher over the fence as if willing them back onto branches. Leading the dance, Mariah swung the poles of hanging lamps further right. A few unsecured objects moved before Mariah was exhausted.
In a tree I’d been watching, a little battered by the constant swing and bashing of branches, assumed abandoned, a paper wasp nest still holding tight. Someone should patent their building process or at least their glue. It fared much better than the nest hung between the roots of an upended tree pushed against the falling-into-boulders space. Protected from Mariah’s fury already succumbed to drilling rain it hangs in shreds.
Without Mariah to chase her away, frost twinkles across the landscape.
Photo: LJ Austin
