This is O’Neill, my home studio cat. He generally is asleep someplace, on something I would prefer he not be on. But he is a cat, leads his own type of life and is a good cat. At the moment he is “elsewhere” having wandered off during the full moon. It is unlikely he had gone to Vegas, it feels like he could be that far away. Hopefully he will make his way home in a day or so, tired and hungry. Maybe he will see the LOST posters. One can only hope.
When we dropped off my yet work for an upcoming show the garden called out to be strolled though. So we did, and the fall blooms were lovely. After that stroll we decided to head off on one of the trails for a hike, also lovely. This is a busy month for me, pick up from one show, drop off at 2 others, then repeat again the final week of the month. I am also in bloom, busy with creating, getting to know how my new website works, regular work and continuing to help Joe in his recovery. There is much to do, much to learn and much to be happy about in this bridge time between summer and fall.
After a few weeks of work and waiting, I went live today! Hopefully the gremlins are, and remain there! It feels good to have made this step at last even though I know it is just the start of the work. Onwards and upwards!
Visiting my childhood home has become an event tinged with sadness. It is an old house and was over 200 years old when I was a child so it has seen some wear. But when I was a child it didn’t look like wear, it was home. Now I see all the foxing, rubs and “patina”. It is hard to see and harder to accept the fact that each visit may bring the last dinner eaten around the table. It is just time, and there is no holding it back or slowing it down. That season of loss is coming on a timetable all its’ own.
The first weekend of September is here, a short pause between summer and fall. I think it is a good time to wrap up old tasks and plan to start new ones. The car is packed to the top for the dorm move in. The house will be empty, though less so than it was last year. For which I am very grateful. This continues to be a strange and wild time, both contained and uncontrolled.
The last of the evening light is fading, it is nearly 7:30, sunset. The color has slipped from the sky, yet I linger on the deck, loathe to call it a day. The late summer night sounds are starting their prelude to fall, which is whispering through the leaves.