burning time

Atypical Sundays… I’ll grab my domestic god trident, stay in my jammys all day, run the vacuum, do the laundry and call my parents.

Only during the cooler months does this regimen change.

Autumn has finally arrived. Without question, my favorite time of year.

Psychologically speaking – it’s a time of year when I feel recharged and optimistic. I suppose those feelings would be better suited for the “renewal” of Spring-time. Maybe it’s some genetic memory encoded deep within my being that is celebrating the Harvest? I’m not about to lock myself into a sensory depravation tank to find out, for fear I’ll turn into a monkey.

mojobear spent the better part of the day giddily running around the yard with his birthday present sucking up pine cones and terrorizing squirrels. Babybear, who normally has Sundays off, had to work today. He returned home and took turns between helping me inside and Kevin outside. I was sorting through a pile of boxers when he darted in and nabbed the digital and ran back outside. It seemed a praying mantis has taken up residence in our carport and he wanted a photo.

The mantis has already put on her fall colors. Seeing her makes me smile, because though she’s just a little early, her outfit will soon compliment and blend into the fiery foliage to come.

We covet our Sunday nights in the cooler months. We’ll sometimes invite friends over, sometimes not. What is constant is the fire. If available, we’ll enjoy a bottle of good red wine or some warmed sake and stay outside until the fire and we are exhausted and ready for bed.

This was the first fire-ritual sunday of 2003… And at the new house.

Everyone has some sort of ritual – continuity is comforting.

If I maintained a blog, I’d probably get squishy by trying to articulate why this evening is so important to me.