And now it’s fall. A cool breeze is up, the sky has gone grey and sullen, and there are frost advisories. We’re ready for it. I lit a little fire in the stove. There’s seasoned hardwood just begging to fill that tree by the stove.
Lamps by five and loads of line dried laundry on the couch.
We’d better gather those flower bouquets now. Soon the gardens will be toasted. Lisl has pink dahlia blooms as big as your face right now. They’re fat and velvety and dew-like. I want to somehow save them. Such fleeting perfection.
Amy and I went shopping today. I found this lumpy, smoothly-glazed, misshapen mug. It’s blue. And new washcloths and empty albums for this year’s pictures. Books to read. Aldi sells these yummy coffee beans. I bought three bags.
We tasted the refrigerator pickles this evening. Elv wasn’t nearly as impressed as I am. The onions and peppers taste good, too.
The breeze is blowing the rain east across the big lakes this evening. Elv says it’s supposed to be nice again tomorrow. He’s is reading a Herriot book and I’m hoping to reread, No Holly for Miss Quinn. The stove creaks as the flames dance behind the glass. A perfect September evening.
Stone House Scribblings 