Continual rain, at long last, has ended another typically hot and dry summer, one that gave every appearance of extending far into a protracted Indian Summer. Yet, October was unusually wet. This Thanksgiving week promises daily rain.
An unforeseen sadness is creeping gradually, insidiously into the fabric of my life. Dangling threads of a garment hanging loosely about my diminishing frame are unraveling more quickly than I can stitch them back together into whole cloth. Strange, this annual change in weather that I anticipate so eagerly always produces the same result upon my disposition.
I love the cool and wet and dark . . . Nonetheless, I am saddened at the departure of sun and blue sky.