At least in our front yard. Our maple tree is like a retired stripper with one more chance to strut her stuff. That tree has flung every molecule of chlorophyll to the winds and is flaunting the glory of her naked leaves. Woohoo! Strut it, baby! The rest of the neighborhood trees are more sedate, good, Christian women hiding behind their green leaves, shy about letting anyone get a glimpse of ankle. (why yes, it's metaphor-ing quite heavily over here)
Yesterday afternoon Durwood and I went to the carpet outlet and picked out some new carpeting for all the rooms. The biggest sample is for the dinette and hall, the smallest is for the bedrooms, and the other one is for the living room but we're not sure about the color so we're going back after work today to see what else we can find, something with a richer color, something that doesn't look like a motel. Now I just have to figure out how to move all the crap (let's be honest) that we have stuffed under things around here so the carpet layers can move the furniture around to put the new rugs down.
September 24--William Merritt Chase, At the Seaside. Lora loved the beach. She loved the pale pink sand and the way the dune grass waved in the breeze off the water. As soon as she stepped off the boardwalk she kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the warm sand. The waves played softly on the shore washing over the sand like a lover's gentle hand. Lora spread her quilt above the high water line and used her shoes and bag to told down the corners. As she settled down she heard a shout and looked up to see a tall man running along the sand toward her chasing a shaggy brown dog. The dog had a shoe in its mouth and seemed to be enjoying keeping one step ahead of the man.
I took the time to do a half-hour of yoga this morning so I'm running late. Hasta la vista, babies.