It was the perfect autumn weekend in small town Indiana, weather wise.
It seems as if the farmer's market vendors bring more and more each Saturday morning to sell. It's obviously been a bountiful harvest for them.Most of the fields have been combined, and the grain trucks, full of yellow corn and soybeans lumber down the two lane highways. The dust the combines create makes us close the vents as we drive through the cloud. It was a good weekend to work outside. Jim winterized the motor home, took it for a run to charge the batteries, and put it to bed for the winter.
Stuffy noses happen this time of year for many reasons. Things are coming to a close.
I closed up the back porch, and tore down the flower beds. My bra filled with morning glory seeds as I tore the vines off the arbor out front.
The flower beds are decorated for fall, and the scarecrow is bunge corded to the arbor, with his arm up, waving to passersby.
I've been hankering big time for a bonfire, and last night was the night.
The corgi kids came out and sat on the deck swing with me as we gazed deeply into the flickering flames. If the fire snapped, Addie quickly turned her back to it, and snugged her nose into my armpit.(?)Is there safety in there, do you suppose?
The color of the tree across the street, and the bright stars were the perfect background as evening slipped into night.
It was my 59th yesterday, and by gum, I was determined to make myself happy, and a fire always seems to be able to do that.
What better gift for a pyromaniac? (heehee).
Pushing 60 makes one have some thoughts about mortality, happiness, and peppermint ice-cream!