The moon is lovely in this October sky. Silverlock spent the night outside of the crate, last night. It's a good socialization for her, but wears on the nerves of the unicorn meat eating cats. I can't tell you how I feel, for once. I have had a large amount of stressors this month, but I love the season so much, trouble seems to slip by, until I start crying.
Don't get me wrong, I was out with the leaves yesterday, covering the pool. I tend to appreciate the leaves even while crawling under a deck. Change is still moving in the air, this fall season seems shorter than any other. The impatiens and marigolds fool me into dreams of summer, and if I close my eyes after mowing the grass, I can imagine that it is early Spring. I listen intently to the birds, as they make their way South.
The trees sigh as the sap rises. They know what comes, as well as we do, with all our clocks, and calenders, and holidays. The cats roam far and wide these days, as I leave the window open all day. It is their time, the leaf cats, the stream cats, the fern cats. In this time of year, they all blend in with the foliage...tabbies, orange and grey, and the dilute (gray and gold) tortoiseshell named Georgia.
Soon, the grass won't need mowing, but the leaves will lie on the lawn to be shredded for next year's grass. They will dry and become weightless, float in the wind. I have isolated this month; I have been listening to the voices on the wind. And in me. I know the new medication is working, some days I feel numb. I feel willful, and reluctant against the tide of the stressors. I have been dropping things from my routine, that are good for me, this week.
I want to cocoon myself, when I need to be sunning. I need to be outside, watching the moon. I have been doing that the past couple of mornings, when the sky is still black, and the moon illuminates the clouds. Sometimes the stars appear.
I look toward today with an eye toward the leaves. Sometimes I can shut out the world by shutting out the noises, the cars, the clanks, and sirens of the day. The noise that fills our lives. If I concentrate only on vision, my eyes on the leaves, I can see the pine needles falling now. I am the leaves and the trees and the bear in the woods. I am on a forest path, riding a horse past ferns, past trees, past rocks. The ground soft under hoof, the thudding warns the deer.