So the switch has flipped and it is fall, even though nature has been dabbling her toes in autumn since way too early in August.
It's official now, and it supposed to get pretty chilly this weekend.
Each morning count of the morning glories may be the last, so I number with great gusto. Ten some days. Eleven others. Sometimes only eight but never quite twelve. All lovely faded denim blue and each almost as big as a saucer though.
The warblers are still around, the same Black-throated Green each day in the same place in the same cottonwood tree. Saw some Prairies yesterday, none today, but one lone, lamenting, Common Yellowthroat sang a fragment of a fragile song when I went out on the porch for part of my one-hour morning count.
More jelly cooking today, so Liz and I will be busy. One batch is done already. She brought home some green grapes and they make the tangiest jelly in the prettiest pink. I like them much better than purple grapes in jelly.
Sure was a misery trying to sleep last night with the races to the west going on. We can barely hear the regular speedway most of the time, but last night the other one sounded as if they were racing in the driveway under the window. I finally turned on a fan and an audio book to at least diffuse them a bit. Us old folks need our rest you know.
When I finally did get some sleep I sure had some crazy dreams. I dreamed we visited one of my particular friends who happens to live well inland and did some serious birding...she is a serious birder....and also watched sea lions hunting herring outside the picture window in their garage.
Yup. Ain't been smokin' nuttin strange, but dang....
Back to the jelly.
from Northview Diary http://ift.tt/2daiv4K
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