Indian Summer

 I am always surprised at how much I enjoy Autumn. It's early morning; I woke at 6:15 and tiptoed into the family room to have coffee and a quiet read with the cats while Jim slept. 
 The backyard is slowly revealed as the sky lightens, and I can see the leaves scattered over the grass and patio. It's time to start raking leaves to pile up for compost and mulch.

A week has gone by since the party, and I am still basking in the warmth of accomplishment. It's a small thing, but I take pleasure where I can, and laugh at myself for the omissions and errors that occur. I meant to take photographs of the event, and other than the shot of the first delightful little guest, nothing more was done. No one else did either, so it will only live in memory, which might not be too bad after all.


The other fun I'm having: a jewelry class and blues harmonica lessons. Four Sundays of listening to Mick Martin ramble on about blues harmonica, and some tips on playing for a couple of hours. He has a rich history stuffed into his brain, and knows the players, the events and so much more.  I can play part of "Low Rider" now. Just part. Won't disgrace myself by trying to play at parties yet...