As the title of this post indicates, there is a new puppy in the neighborhood, and yesterday, Clif and I met him. His name is Magic, and what a sweet bundle of black fluff and puppy smell.
The minute I saw him, I fell in love. We brought Magic a toy, as we would any new baby, and he immediately started chewing on it with a vengeance. When Magic was done with the toy, he allowed me to cuddle him, and already he has the open, affectionate nature so common to black Labs.
I took some pictures of this darling puppy, but none of them came out very well. Here is the best of the bunch.
You can bet I’ll be taking more pictures of this little guy.
Welcome, welcome, little Magic!
In Maine, it seems as though the climate has changed significantly. Last month, we had what I called Saugust, which was so mild and hot that it seemed to be an extension of summer. A far cry from the crisp Septembers we had as little as ten years ago.
Saugust has been followed by what I have dubbed Octember, a month that has been so warm that records have been broken. Two days ago, the thermometer on the back of the house read 73 degrees in the shade, which meant it was nearly 80 in the sun. Clif and I are still having drinks on the patio in late afternoon. We watch the birds—nuthatches, chickadees, cardinals, woodpeckers, tufted titmice. We listen to the crickets, singing their song of fall. Clif and I concur—it is great to be on the patio so late in the season. But it is also strange, and it is past time for everyone to be taking climate change seriously.
We keep saying to each other, surely this is the last day we’ll be having drinks on the patio. And soon it will be. By the end of October, we’ll have to bring in the patio furniture. Traditionally, snow could come anytime in November. But this year, who knows?
Despite the warm weather, the leaves continue to fall, coming down in a rain of gold, carpeting the yard and the road.
After an intense week of getting my YA fantasy novel, Maya and the Book of Everything, ready for its proof copy, this song by The Ramones captures the spirit of how I feel.
But God willing and the creek don’t rise, we’ll be sending Maya out next week for the proof copy.
In the meantime, I wanna be sedated.😉
The glory of autumn is starting to fade, as it does every year. Austere November is right around the corner, and the glorious maple trees have begun to shed their leaves in preparation. While I am a little sorry to see the passing of those bright red, yellow, and orange leaves, I also love the muted beauty of November—the browns and russets. After all the hectic color of October, I find November’s tones soothing.
This picture of a once-green fern illustrates my point. It has faded to white and has brown outlines on the edges. The fern is a good reminder that beauty comes in many shapes and colors, from the first blush of spring to the deep green of summer to the mature beauty of autumn and finally to the sparkling cold of winter.
Would I be pushing the point too much to apply this principle to people? No, I don’t think I would be pushing it too much, and so I will.
Is Sherlock admiring the beauty of the leaves, or is he scanning the trees for birds? Alas, I fear it was the latter.
On Maine Public Radio, I heard that this weekend is peak color for foliage in central Maine. It seems that adults await this weekend as eagerly as children await Christmas. And why not? The countryside is awash in color, and beauty comes from every angle.
All a person can do is give thanks to nature for this generous gift.