Autumn has arrived in Georgia, at least the north part of the State, at least in Atlanta. Summertime has proven that it, like all other dharmas, was impermanent and the heat of August gave way to a milder September, which in turn led to a cool, wet October. It's felt more like Portland outside lately than Atlanta.
Of course, summer doesn't become autumn just as firewood doesn't become ashes - it's all just a turn of speech.
But still, the weather's made me want to post a pumpkin-orange picture to go with the pumpkins and gourds filling the farm stands and the seasonal pumpkin beers being served to crowds of customers huddled together in bars and taverns for warmth. Eliot, my orange-and-white crepuscular cat, suddenly finds himself quite in fashion. This morning, we visited the vet again for a follow-up exam of his missing claw (they still haven't found it).
(I had wanted to call him my "orange-and-white creamsicle cat," but spell-check changed it to "crepuscular," as in active at twilight, which kind of fits, too.)
The week slides by. I work at the office by day, and on Monday night opened the Center for Monday Night Zazen. Tuesday night held a committee meeting of the Beltline advisory board, and on Wednesday night there was a neighborhood reception for a City Council candidate. Tonight, I get to rest and read and write, and perhaps later I'll light a fire in the hearth and put that theory of firewood not becoming ashes to a test.
So, as you've probably gathered by now, I really have nothing to say tonight, but then, as you've probably gathered a long time ago, I lack the restraint to say nothing.