Lord lordy knows when the seasons change I howl at the moon. I anticipate the nights when I can’t sit out on the deck without my jacket on. I picture how my breath looks like smoke. I plan the ways in which I will unwind and forgive. I read and watch and look and write. I have big plans, I do, when it comes to Autumn flowing into Winter.
And I hibernate and rejuvenate and reciprocate, all the while planning my reorganization of my whirling swirling planet. I rid myself and check myself. I picture the smiling faces at Thanksgiving dinner. I look forward to those gloomy days when I will be forced to lift myself up. I preen and prepare conjure up a type of joy that will have some lasting effect on my doomsday mind. I cook new things, I take different walks and I always, always always listen to sweet music.
Gertrude of the Gravy