October 7th, 2005

laszlo moholy-nagy_chx


The thin crescent moon appeared for a while last evening, very near Venus, then went to hide in the pine trees. Thus, I was unable to see the deer when they came to visit a bit later. I listened to their hooves. Oddly, they never seem to step on leaves-- at least I don't recall ever having heard any leaves crunching under their feet, even on those nights when the leaves are thick on the ground. Maybe they are careful so they will know that if they hear a leaf crunch, it isn't just another deer.

An unusual scent has been coming from the heating vent when the furnace comes on. It's a bit like a spice-scented candle, and sometimes almost like a cinnamon roll. Of course, it might be another one of my olfactory hallucinations, but whatever it is, it's rather pleasant, despite the fact that it gives me the munchies.

One would think that, having lost sleep three days in a row, I'd be out like a carp by this time of the morning. Nope. It's those unintentional naps induced by dull television shows. They make up just enough of my lost sleep to keep me awake until the sun comes up. Not good.


Dogwood leaves are turning the deep, purplish shade they show just before they turn bright red. A few leaves of the mulberry tree have turned pale yellow. The landscape will soon be colorful again. But the afternoons grow shorter, so there will be less daylight by which to enjoy the arboreal spectacle. Maybe this, and the increasing number of cloudy days that deprive the foliage of that light by which it becomes most alluring, is nature's way of preventing us from becoming too giddy over the autumnal splendor. Always leave them wanting more. Heh. Leave Get it? OK, it's stupid. How much did you pay for this entry?

Today was one of those days when light was diminished. The clouds gathered early, but did not grow thick enough to obscure a spectacular red sunset. They have, however, concealed the waxing moon which I had hoped to see keeping company with Venus. Though I am a bit disappointed, I'm sure the cricket is pleased, as the clouds are containing the day's mild warmth, which in turn is encouraging the bug to chirp. In truth, I'm welcoming the uncommon gentleness thus far displayed by this October. Too rapid a descent into cold weather is not only unnerving, but tends to rush the changes through which the landscape goes. An autumn with stately pace I always find preferable to one which rushes. A spring is good that eagerly bursts forth, but autumn is at its best when it eases its way in, so that it may be savored like an old wine.

Oh, I heard ducks this evening, too, flying south. They must be expecting an early winter in Canada, to have arrived here so early in the season. I hope that winter doesn't follow them too quickly.