Nov. 26th, 2016

pameladean: (Libellula julia)
I have a new phone with a more primitive camera, and I forgot my real actual camera, so you'll have to make do with words.

It was 47 degrees and sunny today, so I went for a walk. Everything has that swept-clean, expansive feeling that comes after all the leaves are down. Houses that are veiled by leaves in other seasons stand out, and you remember again that the red one has that funny round window and the gray one has a strange little corner porch on the back and the blue one has that look-again-no-really side dormer that looks as if somebody was quite drunk when designing it. The grass is still brilliant green, and small fantastical castles made of half-melted leftover snow stand around upon it. Here and there a sunken partial snow person leans sideways. Most leaves of all kinds are down. Rosebushes are still turning red. Some are still flowering. A sheltered garden has here a bright yellow snapdragon plant blooming away, and there a clump of chrysanthemums, bright red or white or wildly golden. Creeping phlox and sedum and periwinkle are all evergreen in milder climates, and they are as green and creeping as can be, though not in bloom.

Everybody was out with dogs and children in strollers. Chickadees uttered short, sharp warnings, maybe about me, maybe about hawks. House sparrows contended about deep philosophical issues, or perhaps about territory or food.

Nobody has dug up my bulbs yet.



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