It having been Sunday, the freeway was not as noisy as usual, so I spent a bit more time sitting in the back yard, listening to the birds. It was pleasantly balmy, and didn't smell of smoke. We get so few days like this anymore. I need to enjoy them while I can. This coming Thursday will be the last of them, perhaps until next spring. Rain is still possible on Friday, and a high of sixty degrees is predicted, but the chance of rain is down to 20%. Thirty years ago we almost always got rain in the autumn, quite often fairly early. I was just thinking about the warm rain we got in September of 1986. There were several days of it. I remember drinking tea and eating cinnamon donuts one afternoon, while listening to that September rain spattering in the golden leaves of the maple trees outside my open window. That's an experience I don't expect to ever have again.
Tonight it's gotten cold, as it has every night recently, and the moon is shining in a clear sky. I wear a hoodie and a jacket and sit in the back yard and watch the moonlight shadows the bush above the fence casts on the wall. It's like a tiny fragment of a world I knew, lingering long after its time, defying the surrounding darkness. I'll go out and see it again before I sleep. Maybe the memory will bring a pleasant dream.