These photos were taken one right after the other, with an accidental shift of the focus. On their own, neither of them particularly speaks to me, but taken together they work. I like the metaphor invoked by that. As the great A.A. Milne wrote, “It’s so much friendlier with two.” Or, in modern-pop-rap vernacular, “It takes two to make a thing go right, it takes two to make it out of sight.” Hit the beat now, Mr. Bass.

It looks so strange to be open at this time of the season. No stranger than it looked after last year’s snowstorm, which surrounded the blue water with a blanket of white, but odd enough in the Fall light. Tinged with sadness, it’s almost worse than if it were covered. Fall, like the Spring, moves too quickly, shuffling by before we really get to enjoy it. Only the oak trees hold onto their carriage a little longer, the brittle brown leaves hanging tenaciously on almost into winter. Theirs is a noble, if futile, effort.

There’s a dirty limerick waiting to be made out of every childhood rhyme, but I’m not up for it today. Instead, let’s make a concerted effort to rise above the gutter until the next Hunk of the Day rears his head. (See, I can’t even write up a nice pumpkin post without a ‘rear’ and some ‘head’.) The best I can do is offer this seasonal picture of some pumpkins. It sets the scene better than a Witch’s tit.

The art of reading tea-leaves is one of those mystical things in which a very small part of me sometimes, somewhat believes. I put as much stock in it as I do in the Ouija board or Tarot cards, but if everything happens for a reason, perhaps there’s something to be said in the way the universe designs its spent tea leaves, some story to be told in the arrangement left behind. When a bag of green tea suddenly split open the other day, instead of throwing it out, I finished it (and the few tea leaves that made it into my mouth), turned the cup upside down, and then righted it, looking for the pattern that remained. Here it is. No clue what on earth I’m supposed to see in it. Any tea-leaf diviners out there?

Behold the autumnal glory of the red bark maple. Its current sunny yellow disposition is almost matched by its Spring show, in which the earliest leaves are a bright chartreuse, but I think this has the slightest edge, especially in the low angle of the Fall sunlight. If you look closely, you’ll notice that even the stems of the leaves are red – not only the bark – a whimsical detail that escaped me until this year. Even at this late stage, there are still surprises to be found in the garden – and beautiful ones at that.

Andy’s birthday was marked with this beautiful bouquet of red roses from our friends JoAnn, Wally, Carolyn, Laurie, Ali, & Kim ~ and a dinner cooked by yours truly.

The simple pepperoni Italian sauce was a variation on a basic tomato sauce recipe taught to me by an Italian friend almost fifteen years ago. It’s something I used to cook whenever I felt down, and was the first dish I ever made for Andy. Here it is, in rough form:

Pepperoni Sauce with Rigatoni

Splash of olive oil

2 large cloves garlic, chopped finely

1 pepperoni stick, casing removed and chopped into bite size half-moon pieces

2 cans crushed tomatoes

1 small can tomato paste

3/4 cup water

1 Tbsp. Italian seasoning

2 Tbsp. brown sugar

1 small bottle capers, drained

This colorful panoply of leaves is the seasonably ceremonial garb of the Chinese dogwood tree. While this particular specimen in our front yard has yet to flower with any real exuberance, it makes up for such a drawback with this autumn display of foliage. Sometimes the trade-off is worth it.