I'm home. I'm writing.
Freya is happy to have me here, but I don't think she's as happy as I am to be home.
I also have a ton of school work to do, but since I do't actually have to go teach, I might get some of everything done. I hope.
I love fall. If it didn't mean an overload of schoolwork, it might be my favorite season. If it didn't mean the onslaught of winter, it might also be my favorite season. As it is, it's packed with beauty, but there's that sense like Skakespeare says, "To love that well which thou must leave 'ere long."
Here's why:
Okay, so the Boxelder bugs are NOT part of what I love about fall, but they are part of autumn in the country. I imagine their desperate attempt to get in my house is a last-ditch attempt to stay alive in the impending ice and snow, so I forgive them, but it doesn't mean I welcome them.
Morning light.
Combines remind me of Dad. Every autumn as a kid, I spent hours riding with him in the combine cab. I would don my Halloween costume and go out to show him. He was always combining on Halloween, so the only way he could see my garb was to go show him. He also quizzed me on my confirmation lessons while I rode along. All good memories. And I can still rattle off the Ten Commandments and the Lutheran version of "What does this mean? for most of them (Isn't that useful information, though).
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