After a 20th birthday celebration with a gluten free, deep dish apple pie, Cap Jr. has packed up his boxes and headed off on the next leg of his young adult adventure. With the Cap in LA working again, I am on my own on the mountain for the first time since early May.
Settling back in to things up here. I sat out on the deck with a cup of tea this afternoon and breathed in the peace and quiet. It felt like the first deep breath I’d taken in ages. The last few months have been anything but peaceful, what with two young adults bouncing home and then out again, an extra cat to juggle, all the travel, shows and the attendant and varied personal dramas that go along with those things. Kind of nice to sit on the deck with my cup of tea and just… let it all go for a minute.
While we’ve definitely still got hot summer days going on, the nights are starting to dip down into the lower temps. An extra sweater does the trick for now, but the season is definitely turning inexorably around towards wood stove evenings. The tips of the oak trees are starting to turn yellow, pines are shedding needles all over my deck, and I expect the Juncos to turn up at the feeders any day now.
We’ve been here a whole year, one full turn of the seasons. I love this place in all its faces, though I admit to a brief and panicked perusal of the local home rental pages when the Cap and I realized that WINTER IS COMING AGAIN. It was alarming to realize that it’s going to be here in a couple of months and we still don’t have an SUV or firewood (the firewood, at any rate, has been ordered). Once we calmed down, the Cap pointed out that it’s ultimately cheaper to buy a few cords of wood than it is to move house! We had a good laugh and are looking forward to being on the mountain for another go at winter.
Also, the charming Gold Rush era town in the foothills that we were looking at is right in the middle of ANNUAL TARANTULA MIGRATION.
That’s a thing.
That’s a thing that happens in real life.
That’s a thing that happens every year in real life.
It’s not a “this happened in that nightmare one time, and then I woke up and realized that it was an awful dream, oh thank GOD.” kind of thing. No. It’s a real life, happens every year like clockwork thing. You wake up and it’s September, batten down the hatches and listen for the pitter patter of all the tiny legs because NO, LIGHT THEM ON FIRE, here come the tarantulas.
It’s exactly like the Alaskan tundra, except, instead of herds of caribou thundering over the horizon, you get furry herds of eight-legged scary, wrapped in death, hanging out in your driveway.
The executive decision was rapidly made. We’re not going to be moving down to the nightmarish elevation where that happens. Nope. Staying right here on the mountain. I’ll take the snow. Lots of snow, please. Pile that snow right on, ok?
In honor of fall (but not tarantulas), I’ve got some good new stuff up in the shop.
Autumn colors and all.
Love this time of year so much.
It hasn’t gotten quite chilly enough for the Fall ritual of Paleo pumpkin pie with Yunnan tea, but I have laid in the appropriate fixings. Soon. It will happen soon. Till then, I’ll just put on a sweater and thank my lucky stars that the only things migrating around here at the moment are some turkey buzzards.