With palms together, I wish you all a good evening.
I sat outside enjoying the beautiful weather wearing a lightweight jacket for additional warmth. My accompaniment was my journal and one of my favorite fountain pens. It is easy for me to get lost in the solitude offered by sitting outside.
All of the trees visible on my street are now void of their leaves save for the few hangers on who have forgotten the seasons have changed and fall is firmly upon us. Or, perhaps they are more like myself and have little desire to be in agreement with the calendar. and wish for longer days and sunshine to remain for a period of time beyond what is dictated in this portion of the country. Letting go for me is not an agreeable option.
The sky is overcast. The sun even at this relatively early hour of 4:20 PM remains visible in the western sky, sinking closer to its nightly hiding place behind the horizon.
I, like the leaves who refuse to leave their comfortable perch, have decided to go against the rule, the social convention, the norm which is accepted by sitting outside and enjoying “what is left of the decent weather” before the winter winds begin to blow bringing with them the arctic chill and much-dreaded snow.
Jack, my faithful companion stands in front of me refusing to sit. Perhaps his reluctance is a result of the cold, damp ground which grows colder as winter marches forward. His head is tilted back, his nose piercing the air, smelling smells which I cannot smell, those scents pushed here and there by the steadily increasing wind.
The sun continues its dip toward the horizon, shadows lengthening…