I can tell it's autumn because the wind picks up and we need a fire in the wood stove. Brrrr. For this southerner, the northwest falls are beautiful but a touch cold. Randy accuses me of stoking the fire to a balmy 90 degrees which is just about the right temp to me. When we have company everyone starts shedding clothes so they must not like my southern-style heat:)
October is right around the corner and I'm wondering where September went! In Courting Morrow Little, Morrow is on her way to a wedding in late fall and she laments that, "autumn speaks of endings, not beginnings." Do you have a favorite season? I sure do.
It's been a wonderful day at home. Lots of writing time today tucked in between taking Wyatt to school, violin, homeschooling Paul, sitting on the deck, taking a walk, answering email, cooking a pork roast with cornbread stuffing, shallots, and apples. And several dozen chocolate chip cookies:)
Out of desperation today I finally got out my Christmas CD's as some of the Mannheim Steamroller ones make fine music to write by. I think I've worn grooves in the soundtrack to The Last of the Mohicans! Not long ago I ordered Ken Burn's Civil War soundtrack but it is too full of spirited war tunes and I like moody music:) I always enjoy my Scottish fiddle tunes. Do any of you readers know of any good, moody, writing music? The final homestretch of The Locket might depend on your insights:)
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all. -Stanley Horowitz
Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, and sense of sadness and departure. -Thomas Wolfe