It’s that time of year. The sun is down before seven. If one is going to manage his time, he should manage it early, because the tree-pruning and bike riding hours don’t run as late as we were recently accustomed.
And with the coming of autumn, we have had some rain, the straggling end of storms that have hit more southerly and westerly places harder. We had very little rain this summer and about the average amount of heat, and since we didn’t water the lawn, it barely grew. We’ve mowed perhaps five times since the snow melted in early May.
Shrubs, on the other hand, found water somewhere. We’ve been on a madman’s orgy of cutting them back and still have some bits to do, but they’re the bits that require ladder acrobatics, one of our least loved activities. We actually hired a fellow to do this, but then he did as all handymen seem to do around here, sooner or later, and didn’t show up.
It’s been the last week of having the Blogfather around, before he sensibly decamps to his warm winter home. We have all enjoyed his company, even when he lapses into peremptory Retired CEO mode, which he does less and less these days, anyway.
Tonight, we’ve got everyone (almost, one is preparing to joust with modern medicine in the morning) coming over for a pasta dinner. Blogfather made most of the sauce, and we’re just warming and prepping, so why so panicked?
Normally, in fall, we’d be looking at the start of some new contract, or launching a new business, but we got nothin’ right now, and so this coming week will be one of contemplation, reflection, and redirection.
At least it will be good to get back into regular PT. It’s been a bit to-and-fro this summer, and one doesn’t bounce back as well on this side of the hill as one did on the way up. Still, we intend to make it a very long hill.
But geez, the sun’s only been gone a day and we miss the heck out of that sucker. Maybe it’s time for a new animal or something. (Small Dog just shot us a dirty look. Mind readers, those canines).