Life is a Painting by Rockewell Kent

Well, today it is. The sun has begun its decent, for the day, for the year. I'm just happy to watch the colors as it fades. Life has slowed down appreciably now, people can catch up with one another again, passing news (my summer pupil caught a cold, and was spending a weekend away from her boarding school with family in Portland; a friend's pet crow had been run over and killed by a summer visitor), settling in with some coffee- tonight will be the first game night I have had the chance to attend since the end of spring- and as my friend pointed out, I will be two-timing him, since I will go to one game night which will probably feature coffee and dessert, and then head to another game night which will feature beer and classic rock, or perhaps more to my taste, diet coke and rum (though I did get some Geary's Autumn Ale).

This will parallel my earlier ventures out today, first heading to the cafe (it was dead and the owners had company, so my visit drifted from the cafe to the kitchen- another sign of autumn), then dropping in on my friends just up the hill from the cafe- it really is convenient, I must say. And at each place I was privileged to receive an invite. Two gatherings in one night! Let the season begin!

Walking home was a joy- there was no human traffic on the road, just deer. They have come out of hiding now that the pace has slackened. As I went by the store I'd seen movement down the road, by the walkway to the church, and wondered who was out for a walk- a little closer and I could see I was sharing the road with a doe and her fawn. They didn't run off right away (I was, after all, already on the other side of the street), but moseyed toward me a bit, before the fawn took off behind the parsonage and the doe moved onto the lawn to watch me pass, and then placidly settled in to graze. At the next house down there was another similarly matched pair that took a moment to watch me pass.

So now I am home, on the porch, swatting what I sincerely hope are the last mosquitoes of the year. It's Saturday night, and I have places to go, people to see, and the prospect of a purposeful walk in the moonlight. Tonight I am breaking out the wool coat.