God awakened me this morning. Well, God, Rod, or wasn't it just odd? I tried to deny the reality of a new day dawning but when my brain refused to follow the example that my closed eyes were setting. Gracie, my cat, herded me to her food bowl (which held plenty of food, if she'd just stick her paw in to release the blocked kibble) but alas, she's a cat. I'm the hero of my cat today. Life is good.
Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart. Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
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