It would seem that (and thanks to Electric Venom for reminding me) today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. We take language seriously over here on this blog, so we shall go around saying “Arrrrrh!” to all our friends today. I hope that they can deal with it.
Fair disclosure: I am not doing this solely to pretend I’m a pirate today, although that certainly has its charms. I simply want to distract Cincinnati people’s attention away from the fact that I do have electrical power at our house, and we have had power since Monday. Saying something like that around here now can cause a riot.
We have a very rainy day, the tail ends of Hurricane Whichever; there are so many hurricanes either here or threatening to be here that it’s hard to keep score. however, all that rain has to go somewhere. It goes here. We needed it, though, and, like I said, here it is.
I have to wonder, though, why that which is good for the natural world, such as this needed rain, is not equally enjoyable. I mean, who doesn’t prefer a sunny day to a rainy one, all things being equal?
But enough griping. What is really getting to me is that this is a sign that fall is already here. I pick up nothing but signs of the closing year. I begin to wonder where all of my full-spectrum lamps have gone. I hope that I can find that online vendor again.
Peter has made it back home here this morning, fresh from the wilds of NYC. He has nothing but awful things to say about the airline that cancelled his flight last night for no good reason, but he seems to have forgotten all of that in the reunion with parents and chihuahua.
He and his chihuahua have gone back down the block to his place to get fresh clothes (well, clothes for him, not the chihuahua), and then we go out for lunch. I have no idea where to take him…
Dentist: uneventful. Only screamed once. But seriously, folks… nothing to report, and only reporting the nothing because I’d promised you all I would.
I am noticing a rhythm to the days now, for the first time since my operation a year ago this last March. It’s a good rhythm, one I haven’t had at least since I’d drop Peter off to grade school and head to my math classes at the University of Cincinnati, an even longer time ago.
Having a rhythm to your days is a gift. What that rhythm contains is up to you, but the simple gift of enough days to find a rhythm, that’s a gift.
Well, okay, Letters from Chautauqua. But I love it here. I haven’t updated as much because, well, nothing happens in paradise, does it? That’s rather the definition of paradise: always the same loveliness.
But tomorrow is the trip home, and to always the same… unloveliness? No, that’s not what I mean. But there will be two cats, and two dogs (we get to take care of Beatrix the Chihuahua for Peter till his return) and whatever stuff else gets thrown our way. So, the usual usual.
Nothing woke me up at this hour, and of course, I can’t figure out which particular nothing that was. Maybe it was the noiseless neighborhood coyotes sliding through the neighborhood, waking Sophie and causing her to bark. Or it could have been the raccoons who taunt her from the porch sometimes.
I have lain awake for a while, listening, but no good. Not even attenuated highway noises are reaching the windowsill.
Saw a warbler yesterday, briefly, which Sophie tried to attack. Hope it’s still nearby.
But here I am left, just before dawn, with no noise, no coyotes, no nothing.
The cats woke me up starting around 6 this morning. They did so, of course, solely so I could be out blogging early and bright, just like I am now. Doling out cat food to 2 separate dishes had nothing to do with it.
This is also the beginning of windows-open weather here in Cincinnati. I now have fresh air, birdsong, and load upon load of oak pollen wafting in to me here at the keyboard. Far more birdsong than I can identify at a casual listen. Enough oak pollen to leave a dusty film over everything.