In which the blood moon takes its toll.

Fall is there; the air shimmers slightly with it as evening falls. Chilled moisture collecting in cold morning mist. The duck butts point to the sky as they fatten up on slimy pond salad. The squirrels chatter and cackle as they hurl haycorns and spiny hulled chestnuts from the trees -- oh, woe to those below. Dogs and humans are out in equal force in the park today; the humans memorizing the last of the sun with the knowledge of the dark days ahead, the dogs enjoying the Best-Day-Ever Feelings of a walk in the park with their human. I wish I had a dog, but content myself with watching water fowl. Just pulled on the first flannel of the season as the leaves are pulling on their yellows. Saw the harvest moon eclipsed predawn, especially eerie with my body still asleep, eyes squinting hard to focus on the coppery blur and shining silver sickle out the window. The giant pumpkin perched on my table has such a presence that I found myself talking to it the other day (and I don't mean my new roomie, though I talk to him too). The new harvest of the Tastiest Apples made its long-awaited grand entrance at the market on Saturday, sign marked with three!!! exclamation points. I bought five. My friend bought ten. We're serious about this, and I seriously need to waterproof my cowboy boots. Right, Pumpkin?