I left my friend’s apartment in Pleasant Hill, California, where all is sunshine and flip flops, and came home to Autumn: Part 2, otherwise known as “Juneuary in the Northwest.” (Thanks for that, Kent :)) Rainy gray skies, wind-whipped trees, and a house begging for someone to make a fire in the wood stove (Dave and I were both gone this week). So he did. And I lit candles, and set the kettle to boiling, and dug my slippers out from the deep recesses of the closet.
I’m not complaining a bit.
I happen to love a good excuse for slipping a blanket from the back of the couch and tucking it around my shoulders, and sipping peppermint tea, and drawing my family closer.
The rain didn’t last long. But it will be back … of that, I’m sure. This morning, the sun made a reappearance, and for a brief moment, it seemed June-ish again. I took a quick run outside and said hello to the property. I was only gone a week, but the weeds and the branches and the chickens all grew in my absence. I thought I’d take a few pictures to show you.
The ivy I planted about ten years ago is finally creeping its way upward. My friend, Chuck, tells me I really don’t want that ivy growing up the evergreen tree. But I really do.
The chicks are beginning to look like actual chickens.
The cosmos is coming into its full beauty.
Even the moss on top of Dave’s tool shed is growing.
My beautiful rhody is in full bloom (but sadly, only for a few weeks).
Everything grows. And keeps growing. Some of those things I’d like to keep small and huggable … but I think it’s not to be.