Calls of the Wild

The children of the night...
such music they make.
(Photo courtesy wikipedia.org)

So here I am, staying at my Mom's place in the old folks' village of Rossmoor, and every night about 1 or 1:30 I get to hear a brief symphony from the local coyotes.

This is not exactly new to me; I heard the coyotes howling plenty of times during my residence at my apartment in nearby Lafayette. But these late episodes bring something special to the scene: a certain wonderfully ominous character to them that strikes my ironic funny bone in a most peculiar way.

You see, it's basically winter out there (not by the calendar, but for the Bay Area, this is pretty much it as far as that season goes). And you have all these old people holed up in their boxy little apartments, while outside a band of mini-wolves is howling at the door. It's like a theater in the round version of a very odd Russian play. Next thing you know an army will march through and seize everyone's grain.

Yeah, I know it's not much, but in these trying times I have to amuse myself with what I've got. Check back in next week when I'll be house-sitting and enjoying more leisure time with myself for something more entertaining.

I Made This

This my Cat-O-Lantern. I made it for Halloween using a template I found online. Sweet.

Momentous Occasion

It happened just short while ago, in my kitchen. As I walked past the open window, I caught the first distinct whiff of that certain flavor in the air that always says "Fall" to me. I don't know what it is exactly, what constitutes that scent and distinguishes the air of autumn from any other time of the year, but I've always been able to smell it, distinctly, and this evening proved to be the first time this year I met that welcome omen. Bring on the football, falling leaves, holidays, and crisp weather!