This porch is in need of a good cleaning and decorating. I'll open some of my autumn storage bins and see what I can find this week.
Rain is the only thing that will keep Bowie close by. He has a sissy little face, but he sees himself as a fierce hunter and likes to stalk the squirrels and birds. He's even spent the night outside twice now, when he disappears before I see where he's hiding. Layla is like me, content with sitting on the porch and observing.
Our street is beginning to look nice and fallish. The leaves are mainly yellow at this end, but the other end of the street will turn a beautiful red.
It's too cool to sit outside very long, but I'm giving it a few minutes. I don't feel like writing much any more. I'm not sure why. I just don't. Life is whirling past so fast now that I can hardly keep up with it, but then I do a lot of doing nothing - or doing exactly what I want - so I guess that's not nothing.
I've done a lot of reminiscing throughout August and September about Mike, as I always do, so today, the anniversary of his last day on earth, is not as painful as it has been in the past. I have conversations with him every day too and ask advice and confess the stupid things I've done.
A couple of hummingbirds came by to look into my face earlier. That's my sign, or greeting. It looks like there won't be a rainbow today.
I'm going to spend some time with Emily and the girls today and try to get a little sewing done at their house. Maybe this visit will be what it takes to spur me on to writing again. I have time, just not the inclination.
This was right after we went inside. We're going to have so many fires this fall and winter. He needs a rug of his own or a new bed. Layla took his other one and likes it in the bedroom.
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