Altivo

So there are five days left in CampNano and I have about 4900 3023 words left to reach my quota. Should be easy, one would think, for someone who has completed the full Nano several times and that requires a rate of 1667 words per day for 30 days straight. I'm up to the easy part of my story, where I know what comes next and how to say it.

But. There's always one of those isn't there. It's a nice sunny day outside and I want to start garden work. Keeping myself from doing that doesn't hurry the other stuff along.

Another but. Many weeks ago I ordered the newest model of Raspberry Pi single board computer, an amazing little power pack of a machine on a single card about 6x9 cm in size. It finally arrived yesterday and of course the US Mail had flattened the package so I had to make sure it is undamaged. Fortunately, it remained unscathed and I am writing this post on it without difficulty. Unlike the original Pi, of which I also have one, this tiny machine pretty much measures up to my standards for a usable laptop or desktop computer. Other than a bit of difficulty getting my cheap wifi dongle to work (something I never did achieve with the older Pi) there have been no real glitches. The wifi does work, the printer works, web browsing and sound are fine, too.

Husband is working on a term paper for a graduate school class. All of six pages. And he's making it sound like it's just killing him to do it. Of course, it's due tomorrow apparently. Six pages? I don't remember anything that short even being called a "term paper." Those were more often 20 pages in high school and longer in college.

Meanwhile, I'm still not getting my own writing quota done.

The maple trees are finished blooming and starting to produce those little winged seeds. Oaks and wild cherry haven't started yet, but I think the willows and birches are blooming now. Daffodils are just passing their peak. And I have 44 working days left until retirement, which means I also need to do some paperwork for insurance and stuff. Can't put that off much longer.

Right now, though, I need to stop watching birds outside the window and work on this CampNano project.

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
[Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
long years numberless as the wings of trees!]
--Galadriel, in Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring

It's upon us already. It seems as if there was hardly a summer this year, the weather was so strange, but the birds are starting to flock in the trees. What was an occasional stray leaf on the ground has already multiplied into about one per square foot here. Some maple trees seem to be kindling into color very early indeed, and the sumac at the top of Marengo Ridge has gone crimson even before the goldenrod is finished blossoming.

We still have hummingbirds daily, but no way to know whether they are the same ones that were here all summer. Have those been replaced by transient birds, already starting their migration? It seems possible. Acorns are falling, squirrels are busy gathering them. So are the chipmunks, scurrying about and stuffing their little faces, then running off into their burrows.

The very belated pole beans in the garden have finally begun to blossom. With luck, the frost will hold off long enough for us to get a few beans out of it, but I'm not counting on it.

The approaching season leaves us with much to do. Yesterday I ordered a new blanket for Tess, so she can be out for short periods even if it is windy and cold. Hopefully wading in the snow will keep her hooves from drying out as badly as they did the last two winters. She won't like it much, but sometimes life is hard. Tomorrow will mark the second week of the new school year that classes have been in the library on Friday for stories and to check out books to read.

Banned Books Week is almost here, and the wildflower beds outside the glass wall are no longer a riot of purple, pink, and white. The remaining flowers are all yellow as egg yolk: goldenrod, prairie sunflower, compass plant. What I really notice though is the oak leaves falling at home.

Oaks can develop intense color when the weather is just right, but I've never figured out what the ideal conditions are. In an ordinary year, the oak leaves just turn brown over a period of weeks and then flutter to the ground. We already have brown leaves strewn over the grass. I don't know whether to wish for a hard frost that might turn the oaks to brilliant reds and maroons, or to hope for a long, slow autumn without a frost, so that we may yet get something from the garden and the apples and fall raspberries have their full five weeks or so of glory.

I do know one thing, though. This weekend I am going to find some apple cider, from fresh apples, somewhere.