10.15.15  We’ve been having a series of farewell dinners with our snowbird friends before they head off to Arizona, North Carolina, New Mexico.  When we walked through the woods to our next door neighbor’s house, our black kitty, Chatpeau, followed along behind us to tell them good-bye.  Like us, they are early risers and I will miss the little light I see through the trees in the pre-dawn hours of these darkening days.

The light in our dining room this time of year is always spectacular.  The sun is low enough in the southwest sky to dip below the big porch overhang and stream into the house for hours, bouncing light off the lake.  Don took off the wooden screen doors and cleaned all the glass so we can soak it in before Winter’s cold dark.  When Carol, my artist friend, was here for their farewell dinner, we wandered around the living room, dazzled and dazed at how the light illuminated the room, sparkled in crystal, and moved down the mahogany paneled walls.  We watched time slip through the hour-glass.

They all, kindly, invited us to come visit them in the Winter.  You never know.  We’re due to have a quick  “backdoor cold front” move in–when gusty winds come from the East.  Ahead of that, I’m watching the weathervane point to the northeast this morning out my kitchen.  There’s a clear blue sky, a few whitecaps out on the lake, and the wind chime is gonging.  Golden leaves, from the errant Aspen tree next to the porch, are blowing sideways across my window and drifting up the grassy hill.  Farewells.