Please allow me the first cup of the morning, then we'll chat.
Or, at least I'll try.
Funny, business. One day you feel as if you need to stand outside and beg them to walk inside, the next find yourself screaming, "Leave me alone." Which I'd never consider. I love 'em all.
I hear a crow scream...Autumn has arrived.
Stephen
Just drink more coffee. It'll be okay.
ReplyDeleteIndeed. Sip...
DeleteLife is rough until that first coffee. I'm still waiting for mine . . .just ten more minutes . . . I think I can make it.
ReplyDeleteAnd, I hate instant.
DeleteHaving the first as I read your blog. Dash of real cream and a spoonful of honey.
ReplyDeleteI have the real cream...which offsets that fake sugar in a pack stuff.
DeleteIn Anchorage, the seagulls were the sound of summer, and the ravens the sound of winter (they went up into the mountains in summer, but came back down en masse through the city in fall, as the seagulls fled the coming cold.)
ReplyDeleteHearing the crows here always makes me think of the coming cold, for all that they're here through the entire summer.
People do come in clumps, don't they? Even when there's no possible way for them to know or coordinate, they still come in clumps. Hope you get enough coffee in to deal with all of 'em!
It's the clarity of sound I notice, first. The heavy humidity dispelled. A crow screams two miles distant but with the Fall air his call seems just, over there.
DeleteWelcome back, Sweet Lady.
Hadn't even thought about the way the humidity muffles the air - now that you point it out, it seems like one of those things certain as the sunrise, that I should have known.
DeleteThanks for the welcome. I get my internet in spurts, these days. May your week go well!
Morning. Hope that cup was good.
ReplyDeleteI always thought it was the traffic lights that caused them to come in clumps ... Maybe we are herd animals?
Morning to you too, Sweet Lady. Possibly, but it's so hard to predict human nature. Be well.
Delete