Rites of Autumn

Less . . . dramatic . . . soundtrack than the Rites of Spring. Unless you count the Halloween-ish stuff, like Moussorgsky or Liszt or Berlioz. But less drama is appropriate for Maine, as our autumns are generally less dramatic than our springs. Take longer, anyway. I know I mentioned something about spring and switching from skis to bicycle between weekends.

Anyway, raked the lawn this afternoon, not the definitive and final raking of the year because there are still leaves up there in the tree waiting, but most of the stuff is down and raked into a windrow along the side fence. Now to sit and sip some of that good Olmstead Orchard cider and watch a football game or two. Won't swap the lawn mower for the snowblower in pride of place at the front of the garage until next weekend, I guess -- if we get a foot of snow on Tuesday, you'll know who to blame.

Did the end of Chapter X this morning, The Shrew left standing by the side of a snowy back road clutching a Walther PPK in her hand and staring at an oncoming Jeep. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of _As The Terns Whirl_....

(Actually, no terns. They migrate south for the winter.)

So I got a bit hasty

Just discovered that Michigan beat Michigan State, in spite of early Portents and Signs. This is important.