Sunday Soliloquy

October is winding down. During its last few days, we have a chance for some snow. This year, more than ever, I am not looking forward to winter. Already the days are too short. Already I am back on the recumbent bike and the treadmill. I miss the days of park trails with my Nordic poles. Bud is still venturing out each day. He has proper outdoor weather plus the dedication of a long time runner.

He often brings me back some found item from his walk. This morning it was this pretty little leaf. Such colors!

Another present from Bud a couple weeks ago - a little woolly bear worm - long thought to be a predictor of winter. This one had some black on each end with a wider band of brown. So, cold winter to start and finish, but milder in between?

This hasn't been the best year for colorful Autumnal array, though there are some pretty trees here and there. Like this pin oak at a neighbor's.

And this maple against a bright blue October sky.

We are seeing the deer more often and closer. This one and three others have been coming very near the deck. I get a kick out of watching two of this year's fawns chase one another back and forth across the dam. My photo of them didn't turn out very well because they really move!

And even though we've had several nights below freezing, some of the flowers are still hanging on - like my Mother's Day flowers from Doug and Shelly. Some gaillardia hiding at the bottom of the photo and a pot of red geraniums and sprengeri still bloom. And another pot of petunias and my basil under the patio roof are also surviving.

Even these daylilies have decided to bloom one more time.

There's not much left of the alyssum. I've already emptied 7.55 inches of rain out of that guage this month - a new record for October, beating 1941's October total.

The sun keeps moving incessantly, setting farther south each evening.

Resulting, as always at this time of year, in some glorious sunsets.

Daylight saving time ends Sunday which means I'll be getting up at 4 a.m. for awhile instead of 5 a.m. until my internal clock adjusts.
But the time change won't mean anything, it will still be seven more weeks of darkness until the light begins to return.

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."  (Mary Oliver)