Tuesday, September 25, 2012
in its web. There are deaths that come so quietly.
Behind the fence a neighbor's dog howls in the dark.
asks nothing. The green wail of spring is what I want.
I listen to ocean in an empty shell.
How solitary the drifting boat on the water.
The summer is winding to a close here in the Northwest. The tomatoes are still proffering their August bounty but the red harvest is dew-frosted in the mornings now, and the fat heirlooms are cracking in the cool nights. The grass is still sere but the green is creeping back in after the first of the autumn rains.
The pictures of the back of the house are testimony to my irritating parsimony. Despite the repeated warnings that "replacing gutters is often difficult and a professional roofer may be a long-term savings" I went ahead with replacing Missy's back roof gutter, and a nasty, unpleasant job it was. I can see a visible belly in the damn thing, and the brackets I used did not do a particularly adequate job of holding the inside of the gutter against the roofline, so I had to go back and hang some flashing to route the runoff into the gutter. It's the worst sort of jury-rigging, but it works, and as my old drill sergeant was wont to say; if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid...
I hope you are starting to see the signs of autumn, despite the poet's wail for spring, it is my favorite season of the year.