Thinning foliage allows my window to allow more afternoon sunlight to enter the room. The deceptive mulberry, by its dense shade, makes even the hottest summer day appear cool, and then, shedding its leaves, makes any clear day late in the year appear bright and warm, no matter how chill the air. Today is chill, indeed, and very bright. The tall pines rise to catch the light and their patches of brown needles glint like copper, as do the remaining leaves of the oaks. The mulberry leaves, back lit, are almost the color of ripe lemons. The view makes me want to turn up the heat, so that the room can be as warm as the day falsely appears to be.
Of late, I've been going through another of those periods of unfocused thoughts, when I am filled with energy yet unable to do anything with it. The result is a strange combination of lassitude and anxiety. Another result is that my brain swarms with prepositions. Prepositions are the vermin of language: they have their function, but you don't want them multiplying, and then overrunning every paragraph. Each time I swat one, two more pop up to take its place.
As I am unable to focus, I'm going to give in to the temptation to make the room comfortable with more heat. Sluggo will now nap. I will have pizza, followed by indigestion and television.