It's been windy the last few days. I love it when it's windy. I love the distant roar and the leaves flying up like living things. Even when it was sunny today it felt like fall with the chilly wind teasing the branches and making the birds over correct when they came in to land on the birdfeeders. Yep, it's definitely fall.
November 1--Edward Docker, Making Lanterns. We turned the corner on the dark country road and there they were lined up on both sides of the road as far as we could see. "What are they?" asked Craig leaning forward over the steering wheel, his face pale in the dashboard lights. "I don't know," I said, "they look like tiny pumpkins or dolls heads." The eyes glowed green or gold or orange in the total blackness of the overcast night. Even with the wind sweeping torrents of leaves across the road and rocking the car when it gusted, the lights in the little heads never wavered. We crept along down the toad, the leafless branches of the trees alongside us frantically waving silhouetted against the moon-bright clouds, the rank of eyes tracking our progress from every fence post along the way.
I meant for this to go on but I'm just tapped out.
--Barbara
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