A perfect pre-fall day. Pre-fall I say because fall is my favourite season, unless it is spring, and visa versa, and a sign that the heat and stickiness of this summer may finally be over is a blessing and a bliss to me. I wore jeans the other day. Sigh. Today though it is blue with wispy clouds which send forward messages of distant rain, and a breeze which made a light sweater over my sleeveless shirt quite comfortable. I walked not to the crabapple grove but down between the buildings in the tree lined avenue to watch the geologist setting up spikes in the bowl where they are doing a sub something on the ground there. I think she meant under the grass. There being much under the grass: gophers, plumbing, electrical tunnels, soil, dirt (which I am told are most certainly NOT the same thing), tree roots, and a monstrous, and as far as my brain storage information goes, number of unknown and uncatalogued weeny beasts of all kinds. (Wow, that was almost a proto Dickensian sentence.*)
*In one of my copies of one of what-his-name's books I found the entire first page was a sentence. Dicken's blog says he once counted one that was 21 lines long.
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