The morning is a bit chilly. It is also windy and overcast. The high will be 72°. The low will be in the 50’s. Today feels like fall.

When I was growing up, we had traditions for every season and every holiday. Each fall we collected leaves which had turned color. I loved the yellows and the reds. We’d use wax paper to preserve the leaves. I’d take a piece of wax paper and artistically, at least to me, arrange the leaves on the paper. The last step was to iron the paper. The leaves became encased in the wax, their colors still bright. We saved them.

I remember walking to school on rainy fall days on sidewalks covered with wet leaves clinging to the pavement. Most of them were yellow leaves. They were slippery.

On some damp mornings, I can smell the ocean. I don’t live close to the ocean, but the dampness holds and carries the ocean smell. In the evenings I can smell wood burning. I have a chiminea and piñon wood. I’m looking forward to my first fire on the deck on a cool evening.

My clothes were divided into school clothes and play clothes. As soon as I got home from school, I’d change into my play clothes. They were usually girl jeans, a blouse, socks and sneakers, low rider sneakers. I’d add a sweater or sweatshirt on cool days. Even when I was older, adult old, I always changed out of my school clothes. Old habits don’t die.

I used to love to lie in bed on a cool or rainy afternoon and read. My room was quiet. The noise was downstairs, people talking, the TV blaring. I always had books to read. Some were mine while others came from the library. In all these years, little has changed. I still love to read in bed, and I always have books. Sometimes I even have my upstairs book and my downstairs book. When I used to travel to Boston and knew I’d be stuck in traffic, I also had my car book.

My dogs are spoiled though I doubt that is much of a surprise. Every morning I save a little bit of coffee for each of the two dogs. Henry stares at my cup as I drink hoping that I will make me finish faster. Yesterday I had no light cream. I tried the coffee black. I am not a fan, but I did drink most of it. When I was finished, I headed to the kitchen. Henry followed. I put some in his bowl. He looked at the black coffee then looked at me in what I figure is dog horror. He walked away in disgust.

This entry was posted on August 20, 2024 at 11:28 am and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.