Day: October 8, 2021

Signs of the Season

I really do believe we may actually experience autumn this year. The days are still warm, but we have had a cold front or two that have given us some good sleeping weather and some pleasantly cool mornings. As I look around, I can definitely see some signs of the season.

As I noted on Cinnamon Roll Day, the schoolhouse lilies have finally put in an appearance.

They’re several weeks late, but very, very cheerful and very, very RED. Sigyn is over the moon.

As they are coming in, other things are on their way out. The sunflowers, which have been so bright and boisterous all summer, have begun to die back, leaving a tangled brown mess.

I planted this area with wild morning glories, which are using the sunflowers as a living trellis. The human female can’t take down the sunflowers without ripping up the morning glories, which are beautiful and beloved by hummingbirds. The side of the driveway is both beautiful and hideous at the same time. Elegant and ratty. Magical and white trash. She his not particularly enjoying the dichotomy, but I sure am.

The tangle of sunflowers also has the added benefit of blocking easy access to the driver’s side of the human female’s car. She has to shimmy between the car and the compost heap/sunflower/hackberry tree combo that is just beside the driveway.

Speaking of the hackberry tree, I am more delighted year by year that I planted that thing. It’s growing into a fine young thing, tall and leafy—and a home for some cute, woolly hackberry aphids. These little bugs dribble a fine spray of honeydew mist round the clock, with the result that the treeward side of the human female’s car is very sticky indeed!

And, of course, that’s the driver’s side. The side mirror is disgusting.

The hood is all black, since sooty mold grows in the honeydew.

She even has to bring a wet rag out with her to wipe off the door handle before she can get in!

Bleargh! I hate sticky! It all washes off, though, so the paint and plastic will be okay, but the headlights? Not so much. The acrylic polishing kit the human male brought home barely made a dent. Last year, the car needed service about this time and the dealership washed it. I wonder what they thought of a half-filthy automobile? Maybe it’s time for something else on the car to break so it can get washed again. I mean, it is time for the “low tire pressure warning” light to come on, as it does with the first cold morning every year. The human male can reset the one in his car; the female’s car is too old to know how to do that.

Other signs that autumn is here are all around. The stores are full of pumpkin everything. The human female has a rooted-in-a-sugar-fueled-childhood fondness for these grinning pumpkin cookie/cake things:

She looked for them on her last trip to the market, but none were to be found—not in the snack cake aisle and not in a seasonal display near the checkout. She went home dejected. What she doesn’t know is that *I* bought every box they had. Some I mailed to Belgium; some I set out in the rain, whereupon they turned into orange mush; and some I hid in the furthest corner of the most remote stockroom of the store, where they will be found next April, wizened, hard, and no doubt frowning—and far too late to be either saleable or edible.

A very few of the pumpkin items are actual pumpkins. Sigyn likes the little round pie pumpkins.

Whereas I am more a green-and-lumpy man myself.

I know what you’re thinking. Don’t say it or there will be smiting.

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