Evening writing is good. The sun is sinking, and our hopes are rising. The air is fresh. Breathe deeply, our soul says. You are here. You are present. You are special.

The pumpkins grow in the Patch. Many are rotund. They have a sense of place. They have purpose. The white cat looks languidly about. He is a cool cat. When he is happy, he does not show it. He does not want to be thought of as a pushover.

Mylo and Mommie are doing the ‘Whee’s’; they do them nightly and some during the day. Mommie lifts Mylo off her lap and cries, ‘Whee,’ and gingerly places him down. Mylo has a look of surprise, pleasure, and endurance in the face of ritual. Mylo is somewhat like us. He knows the rhythms of the day. He knows what is expected. It is all in the family.

Last month, the sun shone brightly at 7:00 P.M. Now the evening shadows fall. Mr. Woodpecker was busy at his job in the Woods this morning. Tappity Tap Tap rang out. Mr. Woodpecker is singular in his purpose. Nothing stops his daily routine. He dances to the sound of his own Tap Tap Tap.

Harvest time approaches. It is dry and dusty. The corn does not look good. No rain for over a month. The Bullfrogs are tuning their instruments. They are in excellent voice in the fall. Many listen to their song.

The clock is ticking a bit slower in September. The days of wine and roses. Days of meditation. Days of hope. Days of prayer for good things. A time to gather limbs for bonfires. Chili will soon be the order of the day. Homemade vegetable soup and baked bread with a thick crust. Learning for learning’s sake. Understanding the world and our place in it. Soon there will be candles in the windows. A light in the darkness for our lost loved one. He will see the light and come home.