the road to my house When the leaves turn and it still feels warm and wonderful there is a underlying tone of panic rising from the valley and in to my very soul. The calves have been separated from their mamas and cry all night haunting my sleep. The squirrels and I are competing for the adorable little acorns my scrub oaks eject each year. Surely there is something wonderful we can make with them for ornaments?! Toys, chairs, baseball bats and wayward shoes all need to be picked up and soon. Animals need to be ready for icy cold temps and our own shelter could use a little energy efficiency too.
Winter is coming, looming and creeping, threatening to catch me off guard , ill prepared to survive the months to come. No seriously. it just feels that way! The pioneer in me has some kind of residual memory of human hibernation...keeping the chitlin alive in subzero temps in a house made out of logs. In this age of spoiled life my instincts are focused more on preparing my gourmet canned goods, organizing my craft plan for the hoildays, unearthing the "winter stuff" and before you know it , we're buried in snow . Yep...a slippery slope indeed.
Morgan's "Franken-einstein" pumpkin that imploded and grew blue hair.