We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Talking about autumn foliage is about as cornball, old-fogie a subject as I can think of, but this fall has been the best in my memory. Since New England has been spared heavy rains, windstorms, and Nor'easters thus far, the leaves are still on the trees in many areas. A visual feast wherever you look, and nourishing food for the soul. It's uplifting, exhilarating, and it reminds me to be grateful for being alive.
Life is wonderful, despite being poor (statistically I am one of America's "poor" - which bothers me not one whit: just a humble, underpaid journalist junior reporter at a smallish newspaper).
I love this brisk autumn weather which leads the spirit to thoughts of thanks-giving. Life is good. I am going to cook the bird I shot this morning (with my Gramp's 20 ga. Parker) on lentils with shallots and gibier sauce, for my current chick beautiful, intelligent, super-special gal. Wish I had a bottle of Jarhead Red to relax her, but I have something else. (I mean a bottle.)
Try to tell me that I am poor! I am blessed. Poverty is a state of mind.
It has been an increibly lovely autumn here also in the Chicago area. We had our first real killing frost on Friday morning and that brought down most of the leaves that had stayed so long on the trees. By a small Lutheran cemetary this morning, dozens of maples had dropped their millions of bright yellow leaves all about the headstones--on graves dating back to the Civil War and births that went back to the Revolution--not bad for a Midwestern site. And now it's that time as Shakespeare put it, "When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang...."