Weather Report: We had rain this week. Glorious, sweet, wonderful rain. Not a lot, mind you, but these days we will take any amount that we can get. The days are cooler, a welcome relief after the horrid heat of the summer. Autumn slowly descends over the Garden Spot, gradually coloring the landscape in the city and country side with yellows and oranges and burnish reds.
I drove to work Friday in heavy fog, enjoying every moment of it. We don't get fog much, only a couple of days a year. Maybe I am weird or something, but I love those overcast, cloudy damp mornings shrouded in the cold grayness where the landscape looks mystical and magical. Everything is soft and quiet, a good time to be peaceful.
|Rain drops on roses|
Pickin' Peppers: Talk about harvest. I went out put the hens away and feed the horse (hubby is off fishing) then toured the garden. I've been waiting on these peppers to ripen. They won't win any prizes at the county fair, but they will be wonderful in salads and stuffed. The orange peppers take a long time to ripen; I was afraid that the frost would get them, but we haven't had a hard frost yet.
Trick or Treat?: I have been trying to break my magazine habit, but I gave in to the urge to buy Martha Stewart Living because the caramel apples on the cover called to me. Pet Smart has an ad for Martha Stewart doggie Halloween costumes. Cute little dogs all dressed up as alligators, princesses, pumpkins. spiders. So I decided to ask Max what he wanted to be for Halloween. He's never showed an interest in dressing up for Halloween; even though, he loves to greet the little ghosts and goblins at the door as they come to Trick or Treat. Perhaps this year, I thought, he might just like to surprise the kids, be a cool dude in a clever doggie costume.
Harry Potter, perhaps?
Waldo, maybe? Or Professor Max Von Muttenheimer
Actually, he wasn't very cooperative. No dressing up. He's a highly specialized bird dog, a hunting dog, he tells me, with a pedigree that goes way back to whenever. "No. No costume. No dumb glasses. No Harry Potter, no Waldo. Just let me be me, Max. I need a nap," he tells me. "I'm old and I'm tired, and I need my rest. Go pick on the cats." They have claws, I tell him. And bad attitudes. "Dah," he replies, as he shakes off the spectacles and falls asleep.
I never was good at dreaming up creative costumes for my little girls. Not so good for the dog, either.
Hope you all have a fab week.