The weather is just about perfect. Fall is giving us her best. The days are sunny, bright and warm, in the 60’s. It is still short sleeve weather. The nights are down to the 50’s, usually perfect for sleeping, but I have two dogs in bed with me who radiate a lot of heat. I keep my bedroom window open.

The leaves are changing. A few trees in my backyard have red leaves with tinges of orange. My neighbor’s bush is all red. The cranberries are being harvested. Some newly harvested cranberries are already in stores packaged in plastic bags. I’m thinking whole berry cranberry sauce. I’ll have to get some.

Nala tried to steal my sugar pumpkins. They were on the floor near the door. I found the bigger one in the hall. I checked. No fairy godmother had turned it into a wheeled carriage. The other sugar pumpkin had migrated to the dining room. Luckily, they were too heavy for her to carry too far. I moved both of them. I got them at the farm stand yesterday. I also bought a large pumpkin for the outside steps and a multi-colored mum, also for outside. They are the perfect dressing for my stairs.

When I was a kid, choosing the right pumpkin to make a Jack-o-lantern took effort. I had to turn the pumpkin to make sure both sides were rounded and had no marks. It needed a stem, a long curved stem. After picking up and turning several pumpkins, I‘d find my pumpkin, bright orange, perfectly round and stemmed. When it was time to carve my pumpkin, my mother would cover the table with newspapers and set out the tools, a knife sharp enough to cut the pumpkin but not so sharp as to cut hands or fingers and a big spoon though I liked to use my hands to pull out the guts as we called them. I remember the strands of pumpkin studded with seeds hanging from my hand and fingers. It was wonderfully gross.

I always think of fall as the season of pies. The apples are out, so many different varieties, so many shades of red and green. When I saw them piled in the store, I thought of apple pies and apple tarts. My mother made great apples pies. The crust was browned and flaky. The top crust shined from the egg wash and the sugar crystals. The pie was tall, high with apples. My father warmed his and ate it with cheddar cheese. I liked my pie plain though sometimes I did top it with vanilla ice cream. Pies never lasted long in our house.

The weather is a leftover from last night’s rain, cloudy, damp and only 59°. The weather, though, says sun and a high of 70°. Of course it will be 70°. I put in the storm doors!

This week I have a few errands and appointments, but my dance card is mostly uke heavy with my practice and lesson and three concerts. I think I need to rest. I’m thinking a nap or two will be in order.

Yesterday, my sloth was seen leaving my house, small suitcase in hand and muttering to himself. I had disappointed my dear friend who had to witness the third day of my unexplained energy and the completion of long delayed tasks. It was the worst day for my sloth to watch. Let me explain. First, I hauled down a large box from Jack’s room. It was heavy with used litter and trash. I brought it to the car. Next I brought up the storm doors from the cellar, one at a time. I washed them and then lifted them into the doors. That was the hardest. They were so heavy I had to use my knees, my hands and my head. My knees held them half way up the door until I could lift them into the door frame, my hands held them, and my head kept the doors from falling as I turned the holding screws. You’d think I was done, but I am not. I emptied the Chewy box and had to slide the cases of canned dogfood across the floor as they were too heavy to lift. Next, I went to the dump with a filled trunk. I dragged and tossed the bags into the bins. Done? Nope! I drove down cape to Chatham and brought my laundry to the laundromat. By the time I was finished my laborious tasks, it was too late to write Coffee.

When I was younger, I did all my house chores myself. I used to lug in 50 pounds of cat litter from the car. I’d toss the bag over my shoulder and carry it upstairs. I’d fill my trash bags as much as I could then I’d take my trash to the car then to the dump every week. I’d even bring up both storms at the same time. That, however, was a long time ago.

I still think I can do the things I used to do. I even try and sometimes, like recently, even, with great difficulty, accomplish all my tasks, but I am being stubborn, not asking for help or maybe just not acknowledging the passage of time. I still have a lot to learn.