It’s Monday, the first day of autumn, a/k/a Mabon in the earth-based religions, and new moon day.
This weekend featured marches against climate change. Can the effort to heal the planet continue? I hope so.
Oakley and I walked at a forest preserve populated by oaks yesterday. Over the next few weeks, their leaves turn gold or scarlet depending on their species. The vibrant if too-short show really pops against the grey skies. I thanked and blessed the trees for their efforts to clean the air and cool the earth. We arrived pretty early, and no one else was there, so why not? Trees are some of the best huggers I know.
Local critters are starting to move. Deer appear by the side of the road, ready to play the ancient versions of “Dating Game” that perpetuate the species, namely crossing from point A to point B without getting nailed by a car. This morning, Oakley protected me from a flock of wild turkeys blocking the path in front of us. No harm done, but the power of a dirty look is not to be underestimated.
Hubby returned from the latest wrestling match with his mom’s house. A few days of my cooking and some decent nights’ sleep will go a long way towards repairing him. I made him pasta and broccoli with a reduction of chicken broth to cut back on the oil. He liked it and fell asleep on the sofa.
I bought another bag of gala apples from the orchard yesterday afternoon. Perfect. Sweet and crisp, just as the season they represent.