Autumn Leaves

This may not be the most beautiful autumn I've ever seen, but it's certainly close. I remember driving through Tennessee one November when the fall colors were glorious, the temperature had dropped in the night and coated everything with ice, and the morning sun made the ice-glazed leaves blaze with color.

Today Mo and Wilder and I walked under the trees for an hour, gazing and rolling in the leaves. That is, the cats rolled; I just gazed, and picked up a load of beautiful colored leaves to carry inside. Jerry's little yellow house is framed in gold and green and red. On the other side, there's a huge perfectly shaped evergreen tree, out beyond Mark's back yard, against a setting of fiery autumn colors. The view from my deck every day gets more gorgeous in all directions. I'm so glad I live here, in one of the most attractive neighborhoods in Leeds.

But I still like to remember the Southside apartment: the brown-and-white pigeons; the little fluffy birds that looked like baby robins, that migrated through; the December day that a big bush across the alley was full of painted buntings that were all colors; the mockingbird that collected Bob's hair when I brushed him on the steps; the stray cat I called Socks who helped me hunt for Bob; the Meltons who made me come to their big house in the tornado, and when the blue house caught on fire; the bathroom floor that Jack and I put in to replace the torn-up linoleum; the night Jack and I "stole" Mus from in front of what we convinced ourselves was an empty house. And Larry Cohn's black lab named Blackie that traveled in the bed of Larry's truck. I had a lot of sad and glad times during the apartment years, wrote a lot of poems and made a lot of quilts, most of which I sold or gave away.

This morning I called and rescheduled the CT scan for November 30, the same day as the Dexa-Scan.