get the sweaters out!

It is Fall. I like it. We are having an Indian Summer and it feels good. There is dew on my bycicle seat in the morning and fog in the air. The moon rises bigger in the evening. It gets light at just the right time, just before six. I know , as for the past two days I have been spontaneously waking very early and watching the dawn sneak up on me through my windows. Yesterday I woke at four, dark outside, dark and sky starfull, clouds edging into the scene. I drank tea and smoked. I thought about writing but was too lazy to look for a tablet. I ate breakfast and when it got light, went back to bed. What a delightfull morning.
I don't like it when the weather is too hot. We had a couple of hot weeks this summer and I got cranky. I need to learn that when it gets that hot, drink more water and walk in the forest. Now the apple trees are dropping fruit on the lawns and harvest time is here. There is a glut of zuccini; soon the potatos will be harvested and I will go gleaning. I want to stash away a hundred pounds for the winter. I feel like a squirrel. I have a freezer and I will clean it out and restock what I can.
Misty mornings and hot, hot coffee. Coversations slow and easy. The world is spinning dizzy, fits and sparks, spitting and harrumping, dashing the dishes on the floor, fingernailing the wallpaper. I move at a snails' racing pace, trying to keep up. I am smiling. Go, Go, Go! Time is money! Get, Get, Get! Silly Fools.
The fog teaches me lesson. It has nearly no substance but a big effect. It is patient, slow and present. It snakes around every tree and leaf and hunkers down. Burned off by the sun, it waits for the morning to come. It's name rymes with dog.

My "ICAN" art show went well. When I figure out how to do photos on this blog, I will show u some. I've been resting-up from the show; amazing how stressfull it was. I am out of touch with my own self.