Colder and Overcast But No Rain

7:47

Up at 6:20, to  half light, as we set the clocks back last night.  No more getting up in utter darkness unless I am up really early.  There's a brisk wind, and it's  just above freezing, at 33 degrees.  The lake seems to be rushing towards Wells Bay, gray and winter looking as is the sky.

We did not do much yesterday, a sad day for us because of Evie's father's death.  We did manage to get outside for awhile, which felt good, and walked around the campground and the woods.  It certainly is colder outside, the wind more forceful, even bitter on our faces.  But it did not rain so I spent a good part of the day raking twigs that had fallen, a result of Sandy, and I filled five garbage cans with the detritus from the storm, a new record.  I was also able to mulch Leonard's yard as there maple is always the last to lose its leaves.  So, most if not all of the leaves have fallen, a sure sign winter of the end of fall weather.  The Aultz guys were also up for the day, mulching and raking their yard, getting it ready for winter, all signs of late fall.

We did not feel much like cooking so we ended up at the Rod and Gun Club for dinner, me ordering the prime rib, Evie the salmon, both quite good.  It was crowded like always, what we needed,  bar packed, dining room crowded, and a forty five minute wait for a table.  We stopped at Wegman's after eating, picked up a few things for the week and went home, hoping to see Obama's rally in Bristow, VA, where our daughter Jill and her family live, but it did not tape.  Evie was able, however,  to view some of it on MSNBC and CNN and said it was amazing, Obama was charged as were the crowd, a memorable night if you were there.  He's beginning to regain his mojo; I just hope it's not too late.

The poem below was featured on yesterday's The Writer's Almanac and like many poems, it helps us to see what we have never seen before, in this case the beauty of late Autumn, when all color has seemingly gone.

The Fall Almost Nobody Sees

by David Budbill

Everybody's gone away.
They think there's nothing left to see.
The garish colors' flashy show is over.
Now those of us who stay
hunker down in sweet silence,
blessed emptiness among

red-orange shadblow
purple-red blueberry
copper-brown beech
gold tamarack, a few
remaining pale yellow
popple leaves,
sedge and fern in shades
from beige to darkening red
to brown to almost black,
and all this in front of, below,
among blue-green spruce and fir
and white pine,

all of it under gray skies,
chill air, all of us waiting
in the somber dank and rain,
waiting here in quiet, chill
November,
waiting for the snow.