By William Griffith
Devoutly worshipping the oak
Wherein the barred owl stares,
The little feathered forest folk
Are praying sleepy prayers.
Praying the summer to be long
And drowsy to the end,
And daily full of sun and song,
That broken hopes may mend.
Praying the golden age to stay
Until the whip-poor-will
Appoints a windy moving day,
And hurries from the hill.
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Paul left to go to work, discovered that he had a flat tire, and promptly came back, so I followed him to the tire place and then drove him back so he could work from home. We had a fairly quiet day surrounded by cats who kept forgetting that we had both already fed them. I did a Deoxys raid, though none of my Ultra friends who didn't already have an invitation could come. Then we went to retrieve the car, followed by hummus and lebneh at Lebanese Taverna with Karen, which was lovely.
When we got home, we caught up on last night's Supergirl (finally a show mostly about women!) and the season premiere of Legends of Tomorrow (not precisely historically accurate Woodstock but still enjoyable), then I mostly ignored the Giants game while finishing up a 2019 Shutterfly calendar (the web site was working!). Another friend of mine lost a family member in the past day, so it has been a sad couple of weeks. Some more fall color from Brookside Gardens in and out of the conservatory:
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