I woke to the sound of rain plunking on the windowsill. The day is dark with an on again, off again rain. It is much colder than yesterday, and I’d call it a wind, not a breeze, which is shaking the tree limbs.

My backyard is filled with scrub pine trees. They are far from the prettiest of trees, but they survive the salty air and the sandy soil and have become the most numerous of Cape trees. They easily sway with the strongest of winds. This time of year their needles turn brown, drop and cover lawns and backyards. Raking is futile. Gracie’s domain, the backyard, is covered in leaves and needles. I never lose track of her even on the darkest nights. Because the fallen leaves crunch under her paws, I can follow Gracie through the yard just by listening from the deck. Miss Gracie has a favorite route, and there is a path which circles the yard along the fence. I love to watch her running round and round until she is spent.

My house is so very quiet right now. It is warm and cozy. It is a day for lying on the couch under an afghan and reading. Later, I will have to drag myself out of the house to the dump as it is will be closed the next two days, and I have trash which can’t wait until Wednesday. The dump has no dress code so I can stay as I am even down to the slippers. Gracie will be thrilled for the ride to her second favorite place.

I’m thinking I might have a cold coming. My voice is raspy, and I keep clearing my throat as if that might make a difference. I may have only one symptom, but it’s a stand-out.