“Next time you see an ant, remember: winter is coming! The best time to prepare for tomorrow is today.”
The sun is brilliant. Everything is shining in the light. On the top most branches of the oak trees, the browned remnants of the oak leaves are swaying in the slight breeze. It is 51°. The air feels like fall, chilly but not yet gasping cold. The air smells like fall, earthy from the already fallen leaves covering the ground. The air is clear. Mother Nature gives us warmth last week. This week she is easing us into winter.
I remember the walk to school on mornings like today. I didn’t dawdle in the chill. I wore mittens which kept my hands warm, but my cheeks turned red and sometimes my legs did too. I wore a sweater under my jacket. I had to wait in the school yard until the bell rang. We stood waiting in groups. It always seemed like an interminable wait. I was so glad to get into the old school building. I remember the sounds of the radiators working to keep the classrooms comfortable. We could wear our sweaters inside. They were warm enough.
I used to read more in the fall, make more trips to the library. Mostly I’d ride my bike. Sometimes my jacket would billow from the air riding up the sleeves mostly on the downhills. It was cold so I used to put my mitten tops over the bottom of the sleeves. It worked to keep me warm.
My mother would make soup for my school lunch on cold days. Usually it was either tomato or chicken noodle. She’d add a half sandwich, Saltines for the soup and something for dessert, usually cookies. She always remembered the spoon. The top of my thermos was the bowl. I learned early on to pour carefully with the chicken noodle as the noodles and chicken would plop in the top and splash on my blouse if I poured too quickly.
My coffee, both cups of it, was perfect this morning, really hot and tasty. I also had a corn muffin, warmed in the microwave. That I shared with the dogs. I thought it was the prefect breakfast, the best way to start my day.
Henry is barking so I have to limp to the back door to get him inside the house. I heard the postman’s truck so I know why he was barking. He is the protector. Nala is the comforter. When I moan as I walk, she stays beside me looking at me and wagging her tail, offering sympathy. She stops when I do and leans against me. She makes me smile.
I have a concert today, but I’m not sure I’ll be going. The playing my uke part is fine, but my leg is not so fine. Another day’s rest might be what it needs.
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