I'm spending a lot of time looking out at the back yard. The leaves are changing and the view is spectacular.
Things are sort of normal, and sort of not.
We're having a new roof put on, so those idyllic views of the foliage are mixed with pounding, scraping, hammering, and more pounding. It's a lot like living in a drum, but all the drummers are playing at different tempos.
It's strange to know that others will have to blow the leaves this year. Normally, that's one of my jobs.
Thanksgiving is coming in a few weeks. We're making plans, but I wonder what kind of shape I'll be in. Will I be able to sit at the table for a whole dinner?
By then, the drains will have been removed from my back. Can't wait for that. The percussion symphony will have ended, and the roof will be done. Most of the leaves I'm looking at now will have fallen.
All in all, things will be moving forward.
And who can argue with progress?