Fall In The Morning

In the morning, I can almost believe it is fall. There may be fog, and it's cool, damp. The crows gossip, the spiders tend their webs. To retain the illusion of autumn's presence, I have to forget the ten day forecast, the eighty degree heat due to arrive. I look around for new colors, faded bits, token signs that summer has slipped away...

Good morning, Tasha Goat.

The goats and chickens, Sanka bunny... all around the barn, the animals are happy. They have each been relishing the ample supplies of sweet smelling Timothy hay, and fresh straw we stockpiled.

Ada Goat isn't interested in having her picture taken, getting her back scratched. She's eating her breakfast, and enjoying not having to share it with chickens standing beneath her, and in her dish.

Yes, in the morning, before the sun burns off this marine layer, before the phone rings, and the clothes dryer buzzes, I like to stroll to the barn, walk 'round the garden, and enjoy this subtle illusion of fall... ripe pumpkins, a black cat, cold crops all tucked-in the garden beds, colorful berries, deadhead sunflowers...