Indian Summer

Another gorgeous day. Indian Summer made it this year albeit a speck late. The next few days are supposed to be warm and if we are lucky, no rain until Tuesday. Today was a gift. The sky was the bright singing blue that the poets write about and along our country roads the oaks still sport their coppery-russet leaves. Enough vivid red and sunshine yellow leaves flutter in the wind to make a merry dance, while the gray squirrels rustle madly from tree to tree, gathering nuts to hide now and forget later when the snow blankets the ground in a few weeks time.

As I pack away bushels apples and store bags of Yukon Golds, I feel a kinship with these little creatures, we too, know worse times are coming. The age-old sense of preservation speaks to all creatures, great and small. Sometimes I think squirrels typify the problem that I and some others share, to rush around madly, aquiring more than we need and then forgetting why we got it in the first place. Sometimes, what seems to be enough can be too much.   Peace......