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I woke to a flash of lightning this morning. Then another. And yet again, one more. At long last, rain had come! Sorely needed, too, as we’ve been in a bit of a drought for the past several weeks. And did I mention the rumbles of thunder? Oh, but I love me a good thunderstorm!!

Days like this are to be savored. We’ve had a fabulous fall here in the Midwest. The weather has been nothing short of spectacular. The mild, sunny days have allowed my husband to continue work on the new deck we’ve been building all summer. The rails are almost finished and attaching the fascia to the rim board will be the final piece. However, we’d hoped that the rest of the fascia we ordered would have arrived by now and so we wait, hamstrung by delayed deliveries and now the rain. No matter. The time off allows Bill to recuperate from the physical demands of working on the deck, and that’s a good thing too.

As for me, I plan to return to a couple of quilting projects in the works – and there’s always poetry to write and books to be read!

So, let it rain. I’ll savor every luscious, restorative drop!

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Today is the first of October, the very best, the most beautiful, the most inspiring and exhilarating month of the year. I adore the color, the scent, the pageantry, the crispness, the whole vibe of this month punctuated at the end with the fun of Halloween, a time when kids of all ages can act out their fantasies. It’s a time to indulge our imaginations!

What’s not to love?

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It’s one of those drizzly, soggy September mornings. A bit more chill in the air than we’ve experienced thus far this season. Perfect weather for diving back beneath the sheets or, if you’re a tad more ambitious, getting out of bed at 4:45 AM and spending an hour sewing blocks together for a new quilt I’m working on. I’m tired now, four hours later although a short twenty-minute nap seems to have revived me somewhat. A hot cup of tea at hand – love me some Harney & Sons’s Hot Cinnamon Spice! – and I’m almost ready to tackle that hamper full of dirty laundry.

Happy Friday everyone!

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Serrated leaves of brethren black-cherry trees
wave to me outside our sunroom windows.
Empty wire-mesh feeders sway
in the muggy almost-autumn breeze.

Sluglike, I cross to the mailbox,
COVID-gloves in hand.
Wasted effort: Political flyers
for a candidate I’d never, ever vote for.

Didn’t I read somewhere
that September’s segue to fall
dictates longer sleeves,
cooler nights, solid shoes?

My sugar-self craves a hot cuppa chai
but not when The Weather Channel
tells me what I already know — we’re dying here
in this ninety-degree muck, reprieve not yet our due.

Predictably, others will soon
protest winter’s snowfall, her howling winds,
those frigid blasts of icy, northern air.

                       But I won’t…