Much is made about the pull of "back to school" traditions, which have even those of us decades out of academia neatening our desks, buying new clothes and furniture, and signing up for self-improvement programs. Must be ready for September!
Surely the only way that the school calendar could continue to exert such a tug on our souls is because back-to-school preparations sit atop a far stronger instinct: The one that tells us to get ready for the coming of winter. (Or, in Seattle, the coming of rain. It's about six weeks until the nine-month rainy season begins.)
I've been washing, ironing, and sorting clothes, and boxing quite a bit of stuff to take to Goodwill. Zorg is reorganizing his home office. My friend Susan is blogging about cleaning rugs. Neighbors next door are rushing to complete a porch and second-floor balcony; across the alley from us, the roof is being replaced.
I feel particularly unhappy about the coming of fall this year. Our elderly cat Betaille, who loves to hang out in the warm, sunny back yard, is becoming increasing frail. The vet says her outlook is not good. I'm suspect the cold, rainy fall will mean the end for her. Though she comes in and hangs out in various cat beds upstairs and in the living room, she clearly prefers the outdoors. Short of relocating the entire household to Southern California, I can't think if anything we can do for her.
Post a Comment