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My wife and I debate about which is better...she prefers the newness of spring, and I prefer the fall. I sometimes pull out my fall/winter camping gear every so often just so I can smell the aroma of burnt pine and scrub oak.
I love waking up to a cup of hot, spiced apple cider, and a nice breakfast made by my wife. It's Saturday, and the light is still a little dim outside, but growing. I had better get going, for there's much work to be done. Stepping out into the cool, crisp air, I can see that my persimmon tree is full of mostly ripe fruit. The rusty brown exterior protects the bright orange flesh. A taste of one is mushy, sweet, and delightful. I had better get these picked soon, or the crows will have a feast.
I'm in my workshop, setting things in order. No need to start a fire in the old stove; it'll be around sixty degrees today. The lawnmower needs to have the gas drained out of it since I won't be mowing again till next year. Hands work nimbly, moving quickly, but with deft assurance. Drained into the old metal can, the gas wafts out over the shop. Sealed up and set outside. I'll find something to use it for. I piddle with my reloading setup. These brass are good and clean after a night in the tumbler. Time to run them through the sizing die.
Before long, it's near lunchtime, so I head inside. Hot potato and onion soup, my favorite! A warmth hits my gullet, and soon spreads to the rest of me. I sit in the recliner, and watch a little television. Matlock is solving another case, but I don't find out what happened, because I'm staring at my eyelids for the next hour or so.
I wake up, stretch, and climb out of the nap I've been in. Boy, that felt good. I think I'll go on the other side of the ponds and do a little shooting with my old .22 rifle. I'm gone a couple hours, and don't do much shooting. Spent more time just looking at the birds and critters. Doves are coming in...soon, it'll be time to take the dogs out and sit in a field to wait on them. Back home, my wife is sitting on the porch with a large paper bag full of whole pecans, shelling away. I'd better help her, as we'll need plenty to make pecan pies for Thanksgiving. We get about half the bag done, but the light is getting dimmer, and a chill has been in the air for a while. Thankfully, the mosquitoes have mostly died off, giving us a respite from their bites.
Inside, I turn on a couple lamps. Lawrence Welk's show is on, but it's mostly background noise to our family around the table. More soup, but we also warm up some spaghetti squash with leftover turkey from yesterday. My wife's face is rosy pink from being outside.
I love the fall.
I love waking up to a cup of hot, spiced apple cider, and a nice breakfast made by my wife. It's Saturday, and the light is still a little dim outside, but growing. I had better get going, for there's much work to be done. Stepping out into the cool, crisp air, I can see that my persimmon tree is full of mostly ripe fruit. The rusty brown exterior protects the bright orange flesh. A taste of one is mushy, sweet, and delightful. I had better get these picked soon, or the crows will have a feast.
I'm in my workshop, setting things in order. No need to start a fire in the old stove; it'll be around sixty degrees today. The lawnmower needs to have the gas drained out of it since I won't be mowing again till next year. Hands work nimbly, moving quickly, but with deft assurance. Drained into the old metal can, the gas wafts out over the shop. Sealed up and set outside. I'll find something to use it for. I piddle with my reloading setup. These brass are good and clean after a night in the tumbler. Time to run them through the sizing die.
Before long, it's near lunchtime, so I head inside. Hot potato and onion soup, my favorite! A warmth hits my gullet, and soon spreads to the rest of me. I sit in the recliner, and watch a little television. Matlock is solving another case, but I don't find out what happened, because I'm staring at my eyelids for the next hour or so.
I wake up, stretch, and climb out of the nap I've been in. Boy, that felt good. I think I'll go on the other side of the ponds and do a little shooting with my old .22 rifle. I'm gone a couple hours, and don't do much shooting. Spent more time just looking at the birds and critters. Doves are coming in...soon, it'll be time to take the dogs out and sit in a field to wait on them. Back home, my wife is sitting on the porch with a large paper bag full of whole pecans, shelling away. I'd better help her, as we'll need plenty to make pecan pies for Thanksgiving. We get about half the bag done, but the light is getting dimmer, and a chill has been in the air for a while. Thankfully, the mosquitoes have mostly died off, giving us a respite from their bites.
Inside, I turn on a couple lamps. Lawrence Welk's show is on, but it's mostly background noise to our family around the table. More soup, but we also warm up some spaghetti squash with leftover turkey from yesterday. My wife's face is rosy pink from being outside.
I love the fall.
