Five Degrees Above Freezing

It’s hard to believe, but the thermometer tells me it is thirty-seven degrees this morning! Five degrees above freezing? How’d that happen? Wasn’t it just a couple of weeks ago that we were sweltering under summer’s heat? When fall decided to make her appearance, she did so with a bang. She wasn’t shy.

Last night was drippy, rainy, a typical fall night, which I guess was laying the groundwork for the cold to move in. What better thing to do on such a night than play chess with my grandson? That game warmed things up considerably. I’m afraid, though, that I was no match for him and he won handily. I’m going to have to study up on what moves the pawn makes, the rook, and all those other interesting little critters. I did learn what the queen does, though, and I heartily approve. She moves whichever way she wants to! I sort of like that.

Thanks to everyone who downloaded Grave Shift as a freebie. I sincerely hope you enjoy finding out about Oklahoma earthquakes and how they shook things up in Levi. 

Nemo snoozes at my feet, the furnace is busily warming up the house, and I’m sure my flowers in the yard are sitting in shocked silence. It’s the time of year to bring inside the ones I want to winter over. Definitely ,I’ll bring in Agnes II. Have I told you about her? She is an asparagus fern. Agnes I, also an asparagus fern, died about three years ago. She was quite old, having belonged to my mother and then moving from Oklahoma here to Arkansas with me. I’d guess she was, maybe, twenty-five? So, I’m hoping this Agnes is as hardy as the first one.

I’m heading for my second cup of Folger’s and am thankful for a warm house while fall takes a foothold and winter hovers just around the corner. I’m grateful for blessings and mindful of those who need our help and prayers. Especially, I’m thinking of the people in the panhandle of Florida. When someone is hurting and needing help, it is up to the rest of us to give it. Not only does it bless them, it blesses us too.

A Cricket’s Lullaby

by Blanche Day Manos

As the fireplace flickers low and logs are reddish ember-glow,

A simple solo, drowsy-slow, hesitantly creeping,

A nightly nocturne he’ll begin, his fiddle tucked beneath his chin,

A tinny tune that’s rusty-thin, played as the world is sleeping.