Rabbit rabbit

O hushed October morning mild

 

Rabbit rabbit

The days grow short when you reach September

 

Rabbit rabbit!

 

Rabbit rabbit!

I have been younger in October than in all the months of spring.

 

 

The morns are meeker than they were

Small things:

The older man in Whole Foods wearing a bright red t shirt with F R I D A Y in white (it was Friday).

Oceanside brunch, huge waves, a bright butterfly hiding its wings when it landed.

Clover, early at the empty Deering Oaks playground, loves to play hide and seek on the woodchips, ducking around the climbing structures like a little kid.

Clover, greeting a man on the beach she clearly thought was Mark (who was in Chicago), then returning, utterly defeated. Her tail so low after that it was dragging in the sand. Maybe she forgot about him remembered, and then felt heartbroken? She didn't enjoy the walk after that, kept looking over her shoulder for where we'd entered the beach, turned and trotted back the way we'd come the minute I said, "Oh, okay, want to go back to the car?"

The last days of summer, brilliant with goldenrod and sparkling with surprise asters. Cold enough at night to shut the windows and dig out the comforter. Clover curling up with me on the chilly nights, against my leg (it's like a weighted blanket to feel a dog on my legs, my favorite thing ever).

Not really listening to the BBC narrate the Queen's funeral procession, but catching phrases here and there, the best of which was "at least 40 corgis."

Ladybug-by-the-sea

If you could take the day by the hand

Yesterday we accomplished so much and yet still managed not to cross off several top items on our to-do list, including removing the last air conditioner from the window and hauling all three to the basement. Imagining it still there on Thanksgiving is bringing to mind the time Mark brought home an old metal desk he found and left in in the back yard, as I pestered him for weeks about bringing it indoors. "Snow is going to fall on that thing,"  I predicted, and Reader, it did. 

I hacked mercilessly at the enormous patch of beach roses in the front yard in my new quest to tame them to a small, manageable shrub. I want to replace most of them with native stuff — maybe bayberry and blueberry and elderberry bushes. There's also a rose species that would be a nice substitute, Virginia Rose. 

Okay, off to have a Monday now. The sky is smoky gray at 7 am, very November. 

On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree

Saturday is my traditional sleep-in day, but I woke at 6:00 with my head full of dreams, and got up to write them down. For weeks I haven't really remembered them, just the fuzziest outline and sometimes one detail (the night before I wrote in my dream journal "A flimsy tray, a shoddy paint job when viewed up close."). Last night's was one of those satisfying dreams that went on and on, involved flooding and long conversations and an Eastern European city and twins and adventures.

Gray November beach with Clover, early — one of my favorite kinds of beach. She played with many dogs, even big, bouncy puppies, and was only ready to leave when she heard a distant scary sound (blasting? Morning fireworks?).

I wish you could see how sleepy the sky is already now, at 4:15 pm, how tired the branches of the trees are in my neighborhood, still shedding gold and brown leaves. The only thing that's missing is crows! Where did they go?

 

Whirlwind

Home, after a really lovely quick visit. I forgot to mention ice cream in the blustery cold, watching Passing, and cat cuddles on the couch. 

It's easy to get distracted in Holly's kitchen by the river rushing past, just down the hill from her back yard. Also, the pleasure and ease of talking to someone who's known me for forty years is one of my favorite feelings. The drive home was brilliant, all of those softer, deeper miraculous November colors. I saw other autumnal sights along the highway, including:

• wild turkeys 
• a whole bunch of pumpkins someone had apparently tossed out of a car?

Those who seek feel the glow

(Among the) songs that play on my brain radio when Clover is banging on the screen door to come in from the back yard:

Hello it's Me 

Let 'Em In

Knockin' on Heaven's Door

I Hear You Knocking

Open the Door, Richard

Today in "I Can Read Dogs' Minds," while walking Clover this morning we saw a Pyrenees leaping joyfully, sniffing the ground, then leaping again, gleeful, as close to smiling as dogs get. There was a layer of frost on the grass, and obviously this dog (who normally saunters slowly along, aloof) was thinking "IT'S PRACTICALLY SNOW."

So yes, frost and soft striped flannel sheets and two-sweater mornings and warming hands on mugs of coffee.

(I love Patti Smith. I don't love all her music, but I love this song, and I love the story that goes with it: Paths that cross)

You are the air of the now and gone

I'm inordinately annoyed that last week's recycling was never picked up, despite the Lodging of Complaints. Not only that, they Closed the Issue, claiming the recycling had been collected. I marched right out to double check that no, it had not, and Lodged another Complaint.

(Tomorrow is recycling day, and unless they skip us two weeks in a row, this is truly No Big Deal.)

Much more important: Mark is home after nine days caring for his sister after her cancer treatment. It was really lonely around here without him. The only plus side* was the way Clover shifted her allegiance to me (her second-favorite person in the world). When we picked him up at the airport last night, I imagined the inside of her brain this way: "Wait. Wait, is that... It's that guy! I totally forgot about him, he's my favorite person!" I can make myself cry by imagining her seeing her mother or Gus again.**

Candles, hot tea, November leaves, gray sky. 

*actually, it was also fun reading tons of books, watching bad TV, and eating sardines on crackers for dinner.

**granted, I can make myself cry by watching a Folgers commercial.

Rabbit rabbit

If you remember, then follow

 

Rabbit rabbit.

 

I'm glad I don't believe it / For it would stop my breath

"Don't too tight when measuring" is my life's motto.

There was a frosty night recently when Clover was all a-shiver on our evening walk, and I entertained the idea of getting her a little jacket. In retrospect, those might have been shivers of anxiety? Not cold? But I'm looking for an excuse to buy her a cute little jacket.

Isaac and Edna are here so briefly this weekend, swooping in for a day and a half, then off again early Monday morning. We have been planning our spectacular Thanksgiving menu.

Here is a $350 bracelet you can buy that...cools you down or warms you up. It's specifically marketed at ladies of a certain age who are experiencing hot flashes. It's described this way: The Wave provides a similar sensation to the refreshing chill of a cold glass or the comforting warmth of a hot mug. Okay, granted, if you're having a hot flash in the middle of the night, you don't want to have to pad down to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. But...it's three hundred and fifty dollars.

If you need a brief but deeply heartwarming story, I have a cat-related anecdote for you.

What else? It's so very November now, silvery-gray and bare, blowing leaves and cold breezes, dogs curled into balls with their noses blanketed by their tails. We dug out the long underwear, scarves and hats and gloves and Bean boots. We've been making soup and tea and pots of coffee and heating up hot bags of corn in the microwave. 

Living is no laughing matter

(Birgit Puve for The New York Times)
ALL OF MY GOALS ARE PRESENT IN THIS PHOTO

Gearing up for the month of November, when it's my tradition to write something in this blorg every single day. The summer was a rush of rabbit rabbits, apparently — and that's how it feels looking back, fleeting and sweet and bright. Oh, summer.

Changes

What a luxury to have a little time to prepare for change! Gus will die of lymphoma, but he is 100% dog right now, happy to walk and bark and eat and lie around in the yard and ride in the car and wrestle with Clover. He is receiving a few last chemo treatments, but they aren't too hard on his body. The last couple of nights it took him forever to work up the resolve to climb the stairs at bedtime (he's always always needed a running start). I don't know if the chilly weather is making him stiffer than usual (if so, I can sympathize). Anyway, it's sad to hear him crying as he tries to psych himself up to do it.

Mom and Dad are moving to North Carolina, and not to jinx it, but they got to have the bidding war of their dreams on their beautiful Cambridge condo. They came to stay for a week while all the open houses were happening, and I think aside from possibly a Christmas or two, it was the longest they've ever stayed with us. Despite my dad's motto about fishes and visitors and how they smell after three days, it was so fun.

The air turned so cold that I put the heat on Friday night for the extremely quick fly-by visit of Holly and Maia, despite the fact that there are still air conditioners in two windows and most of the storm windows aren't closed. Leaves turning, birthdays approaching, my favorite most bittersweet time of year.

Challenges

My weird work life sometimes throws up these challenges, and it's my habit to accept each one breezily and then spend some private time panicking about what I've committed myself to, before ultimately pulling it off somehow. It's so regularly terrifying that it feels like it should pay better. But probably it's good for me?

Creatures

Mark is out of town for a few days and Clover loves me more when he's away! My yard is full of little brown sparrows.

Rabbit rabbit!

October's my favorite.

Rabbit rabbit!

Rabbit rabbit

Happy October, friends!

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Rabbit rabbit!

43

Rabbit rabbit, sweetest peas.

47

Looks like August, feels like October.

Little kids with glasses.

Three-legged dogs.