It is piled in the middle of the rainy streets, painting a do-not-cross yellow line that matches the trees along the curbs. It is on the windshields of all the cars, a small piece is stuck under my wiper blade. There are heaps of autumn in all the yards. The rainstorm last night knocked bunches of it out of the trees - the lovely, lovely Katie said she could hear leaves hitting the roof all evening & into the morning. The golds and reds - I can't believe I thought we wouldn't get red leaves; what was I thinking? - almost vibrate against the wet gray sky.
It is even in this image.
The autumn afternoon light through the window.
Is there a story here? Possibly not. Maybe. There is a train crossing the trestle across the street, but it is mostly quiet in this part of town. The after-Thanksgiving rush is south of me, not here in the downtown area. I have part of a very tart made-especially-for-me apple pie (thank you to my wonderful sister-in-law!) at home, a cat asleep here at work, one asleep (no doubt) in front of the fire at home. Right now I want no part of Christmas. It is my ritual every year to decorate the Emma Tree on Thanksgiving evening, but last night I failed. I began hanging ornaments - it has lights year round- & just changed my mind. I undecorated it. Not in the mood. Not yet. Maybe not at all this year. Or maybe just a bit. Who can tell? But right now I want to enjoy autumn & I'm tired & I'm lazy. I want to watch old movies on tv, football games, read romance novels.
My eyes are growing heavy.
And apple pie awaits me.
your eyes are growing heavier . . . heavier