The aroma of smoke drifted on the air this morning, hinting of leaves burning. Crisp and cool today, skies a deep, clear blue. A perfect fall morning.
|Fall has fallen.|
If only it were fall. But it's winter, and there should be rain, if not snow.
We had a good soaking rain in early October, which stopped just in time for Nephew's wedding. I think there may have been small amounts of rain in early November and mid-December. Really small. So small that at our Soroptimist meeting yesterday, one of our members suggested we do a rain dance at our next meeting, only halfway kidding. Another had given each of her visiting grandchildren a sled for Christmas, anticipating good times at grandma's house. The kids make lemonade out of this lemon -- they glided downhill on leaves.
Chloe had to go in to the vet today for her monthly blood test to measure her thyroid level. I messed up by giving her her pill for breakfast, so had to leave her to be tested later in the day.
And that's why I took the scenic route home, stopping to look at "fall" here at the lake, where everything is buttoned down for the season.
|Deserted: beach, picnic tables, lake|
|No one here to read the rules|
|Beach sand has been scraped and piled up |
(and stuffed into my jacket, by the looks).
|Footprints in the sand. (Watch out for goose poop.)|
|The volleyball net is still up, wa-a-a-y down there.|
|Just hope you don't have to pee!|
|The rental canoes and paddle boats are stowed.|
|Empty docks, homeowners' boats removed for the winter|
|Donut in the parking lot|
|A last look back at the lake|
I move on to the the mail house.
I get my mail at the post office. There are no mail receptacles at the houses, but you can use your street address and get your mail at a mail house. When we first bought our house but before we moved in, we were given our new address. I dutifully sent out a change of address to all and sundry. Many many address changes. When I went to set up telephone service, the phone company said, Not so fast. There is no such address. In fact your address is on the cross street side of your corner lot. What the heck? With a PO box, you can live anywhere in town, thus prompting us to get the PO box and me to send out another bazillion changes of address.
If you don't live in a PO box like I do, you may not notice the fine print in certain things that PO boxes are not eligible to receive certain things, most often rebates. One of those rebates was the coupon the government sent out to offset the cost of digital conversion boxes before our TVs all went digital. I was forced to get a mail house box. That doesn't mean I use it for anything other than these compulsory situations. Since I know when I'm expecting one of those things, I check the mail house box, but only occasionally otherwise, to throw out the junk mail. Alas, sometimes correspondence doesn't reach me if people decide that a street address sounds better than a PO box.
|"My" seldom-visited mail house|
|Killing time. Stopping to clear out these few pieces of junk mail.|
Ah, winter. The season for tennis, across the creek from the mail house.
|The men emit grunts and shouts of judgment.|
|The ladies' higher-pitched voices laugh and shout triumphs.|
|The sun is low in the sky, as is appropriate for winter.|
See you soon.