I don't know why I awake at this early hour. Oh, wait. I wrote that one already. It is a lovely cool outside, and the stars are out. I can't see the moon, but maybe it's out there, somewhere. The dog has been out and the unicorn meat eating cats are out. Max is intensely asleep.
The zinnia are acquiring their fall look, and the leaves on the trees sigh together. I harvest zinnia seed pods everyday, hoping for next year with a garden. I love the cooler air as it comes, and the lemony light of fall.
The neurologist said that it's the anti-evil pill that causes my headaches, and head swelling. It's not good, boys and girls. I love the abilify, but not for its tendency to put on the 30 lbs I have gained. Nor for the swelling so close to my brain. I love it for its tranquilizing properties, and the lack of paranoia and fear it instills. It gives me confidence in the love from my friends: I FEEL the love.Whatever, my shrink will have to find something else that works perfectly and takes the weight off at the same time. I am not super-sizing me. I will not go back to the uneasiness that drove my friends off the cliff.
Other than that, a season comes that I love: fall. The grass slowly turns golden in the field, and the leaves change in the wood. The wind blows a lonelier sound, and the sun does not beat down, but caresses. I love Halloween and Christmas. Christmas has turned lonely for me since my Mom died, but Halloween! How can anyone not love Halloween? I dress like a cat or a witch and hand out candy, and presto! I am headmaster at Hogwarts. I want my own wand to choose me.
The turkeys run about in the wood, at the Old House, at this time of year. The deer move hurriedly through the forest, and search for the next bite to take them through until spring. The impatiens have gotten leggy, although they blossom as well as ever. The hydrangea blooms now with its dark blue heads. The soft green leaves seem out of place in this season. They are a spring color. Rotted tomatoes sit on the ground, lost in the weeds.
Some years are made for tomatoes and some are not. I anticipate the maple will be a wonder this year, and I will stand in the wind and watch the leaves float away. I will let my hair grow longer. Finally, the frost will fall, and my garden will bloom furiously, putting out seeds, before the advent of winter. I will walk on the college campus that I love, wrapped head to foot in the scarf that Dark Star brought me from Cairo one year. Long ago.
We still have several months around the fire pit outside, before it becomes too cold to stand. Fall is the perfect time for fires...the mosquitoes are gone, and only the lovely dragonflies remain. The water skaters pass with the summer, and the fireflies. The fall colors take the forest, orange, gold, lemon, purple, and darkest green, and red.
The sound of the stream changes, as the leaves fall into the greening rocks. They are submerged to be next year's sand on the bottom, and the oyster shells turn black. The water sounds larger, and more quiet. It falls to a murmur, until the rains come.
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