Up the Sunbeam

-- I feel like I've been a bad blogger the last couple of weeks. I have been absent and silent and sorry I'm not better at this. Gathering my thoughts these days is a lot like herding cats. So many of them crowding around in my head, some of them in clusters, others lone and wandering and scattered. Some of them stumble and lurch in uncertain circles, like kittens fighting for equilibrium on their four inexperienced and uncoordinated feet, while others march in regimented lock step, kicking the unsteady ones unceremoniously out of the way (they look a little pretentious to me). A few are angry and frustrated trying to walk a direct, purposeful line through the chaos of the others, ears back and squinty-eyed, they keep trying to ignore the distractions, with limited success. Don't be surprised if you hear an indignant yowl or a hiss and spat of protest when they get bumped into. Somewhere in the wild and woolly fray, the ones I feel sorry for are the ones who just want to ...

-- The seasons are changing, as much as they ever do in this part of Northern California. The changes are subtle here, slow, surreptitious, easy to miss if you're not paying attention. The light changes color before the leaves do; it slopes in at a different angle and whispers of changes to come. The overnight lows are lower, as are the daytime highs, climbing 'only' to the mid seventies, and the Californians hunch their shoulders and hug themselves for warmth. They start looking for their sweaters and dig out their supply of words like COLD and FREEZING! I chuckle at their hyperbole and tell them I'm just finally getting comfortable--I will allow the occasional use of COOL, perhaps even CHILLY if I'm feeling especially generous, but COLD?  Um, NO! I do not miss the high, flat, smoggy, metallic skies of our hot Contra Costa summers, and I always thrill to see the splashes of color the trees don in autumnal celebration of cooler weather. The natural changes around...

Our house has no front windows. It didn't occur to us when we bought the house that this would be a big deal, but we have discovered over the last 10+ years that it is sort of a big deal. You can't see anything that's going on in front of the house without running upstairs. It's a weird feeling. One of the first things we did was to replace the solid double doors at the entry with a single door with decorative side panel windows. Two slim slivers of glass, faceted decorative glass at that, through which light can come in and we can peer out. I feel like a peeping Tom when I look out these windows, bending down to put my eye up to the little bits of glass that give a true view, trying to see who rang the doorbell, or if my kids are home yet.  Unlike the peeping Tom, I'm peering out, not in! This morning, I rounded the corner from the dining room on my way upstairs and I saw the facets of my beveled, leaded glass windows glowing with what was...