Yesterday's pear harvest--in part--contained.
I'm postponing feeling virtuous about this labor.
At the moment I am over-tired and on the verge of being cranky.
[And, there is another box of pears sitting on the living room floor in front of my rocking chair.]
The official equinox has passed, yet I always mark October 1st as my personal beginning of autumn.
We woke to rain--soft, but enough to get my jeans and sweatshirt unpleasantly damp when I made my trek to the litter box dump and on to the barn where Pebbles was demanding grain.
I stripped off the soggy clothes and gave them 15 minutes in the dryer while I huddled in a fleece robe and set the coffee pot to its business.
The lower garden has gone shabby, the sunflowers canted off at tired angles.
The upper perennial strip needs weeding and sorting--again--so much for the long hours of spring weeding and the many bags of mulch meant to deter grass and weeds.
They flourished in spite of the heat and drought which stunted some of our garden crops.
Taken from the relatively dry spot by the car port--a backyard maple turning bronze and gold.
We have several varieties of maple in the yard, most of them transplanted from nearby woods 30 years ago by Haskell Rogers.
Rain and mist as seen from front porch.
Nandina shrubs that edge the front of the house.
The three boy kittens loyally trailed behind on my chores, their legs, tummies and tails soaked from
the wet grass.
Nellie came in and spent the next hour trying out cozy spots: above my old bathrobe which I shed when my jeans had dried.
Gina's lap and her folded wooly shirt became a pleasant haven.
No shyness here--he has taken over the cat basket!
Mima [on the pillow] and my dear old Eggnog curled up on the bed.
On the front porch Little Edward [left] and Bobby McGee tuck up on an old throw.