October is all aflame with orange
Neither speak ill of others, nor well of yourself. The moment you open Your mouth to speak, The autumn wind stirs And chills your lips. --Matsuo Bashō Temperatures have dipped below 40 F in the morning. A chilly wind whisks leaves from the trees. More light floods the forest floor as the leaves empty from the canopy and, across the green, trees glow as flaming orange orbs. A birdwatcher friend tells me that the golden eagles spotted at State Line portend a severely cold winter again .* And despite being termed "unlikely" in our town by the Merlin app, a Great Horned Owl hooted incessantly this morning. There's no shortage of rodents for it to hunt, and I heartlessly hope it eats as many mice as it can possibly hold. I have no love for pests this season. Pondering " Well, father, in the shipwreck of life, for life is an eternal shipwreck of our hopes, I cast into...
