â‰ Leaves from the maples, out my window at a faint first light, are silhouetted against blue-gray, link-colored sky, are falling angled on a wet south wind, toward the house, like ragged birds coming to feed, to rise no more.
â‰ It takes so little to please me. I whooped when I saw my first Monarch down here in the valley (they wisely migrate up higher over the ridges where the winds help these wisps of will wing west). All three were on the mums. They stayed for a while, then spiraled up into the warm kettles of air; they ride the currents as if they know what they are doing.
â‰ I’m happy to say (with details TBA) that I will be speaking (with digital imagery enhancement) at the Westlake Library in Hardy, over on Smith Mountain Lake. This is a part of the country I have never visited, though I have some writer friends from the area I’ve met at events in Rocky Mount and Roanoke. Date is November 12.
â‰ The two new hens, Rhoda(2) and Blanche(2), having endured their week in the pen, were turned out the past two days. The first, they shied away under the spicebush just outside the enclosure. By yesterday, they’d grown bold and crossed the creek. They’re still having some bird-brain moments at close of day, seeing their house right there through the chain link, not quite getting it that the indirect route through the gate is their only access. So for now, getting them put up is kind of like putting the toothpaste back in the tube.