Last night the thermometer showed 53 degrees and Raif made me fear for my (beautiful! Vibrant! Amazing!) Calendula blooms, and the finally flowering and one squash growing squash plants with dire considerations of the spectre of 32 degrees.
The birch are dripping yellow leaf lace here and there along the long drive into town.
Sunset in town and sunset at home begin to move apart noticeably. We left Freds last night (late) with a bag of bulgur. The spectacular light of the most glorious moments of sunset already had faded by the time we came out of the store. As we drove home, we drove into the spectacular light of the most glorious moments of sunset along the Elliot. Its amazing the difference a handful of miles closer to the arctic circle can make!
Today is a day for drinking mugs of steaming black coffee, curled up with a blanket and a book on the chilly porch.
Instead I’m at work, meticulously maintaining the codified structures of ownership, description, access and rights by way of which we as a culture have “tamed” the deep freedom of the land we live on.
** my word (TM) -based grammar and spelling editor tells me that “birch are” is incorrect/ that “birch is” or “birches are” are my correct options.
Birch, singular, as a collective noun? What are your thoughts? I like it.