Storm

Aster


I was fortunate to photograph autumn's final sunlight beside the river yesterday. Transparent ice along the edge foretold colder weather. A brown creeper accompanied two foraging hairy woodpeckers along uplifted limbs of an elm.

Two hours later winter arrived. Our first storm is still underway. Some photos would be nice, but I keep staring out windows like a thwarted cat.

I had to go into the office for 90 minutes, so the car got cleared off once. I had double booked myself again: asked Sylvie last night whether she wanted to go grocery shopping on Thursday as we habitually do. At bedtime I remembered my conflicting work commitment.

I woke up fretting about my canary that died four years ago, believing it had starved to death. Not until fully awake did I remember otherwise. My brain is adapting strangely to new activities, fluttering like laundry against a turbulent sky. I need to pull all my sanity skills into play.

Barbara Campbell asked me to write another instalment for 1001 Nights Cast. It will be broadcast at 3:46 a.m. EST tomorrow (19:46 Sydney time).

After I finish writing it, I'll go visit mathan, scottybear and bigfootcub for the evening, weather permitting.