Dolly Parton’s final message was, My little butterfly wings are getting tired.’ When I read this, I wondered if she had long to live. We have wings to soar if we like. The decision is ours. When our wings are strong and vigorous, we ask what to do with them. We take them off and place them in a safe place to protect such a valuable asset. ‘I may need my wings one day,’ the Careful Man said. ‘Someone may want to borrow my wings and forget to return them,’ the Careful Man continued. ‘What will people think if they see me flying about with my pristine wings? They will be envious, jealous, afraid,’ the Careful Man concluded. ‘People will be asking to see my wings touch them, try them on,’ CM noted. ‘What if the government decides to tax wings?’ CM asked.

The Crows were talking in the Woods this morning. When the Old Man walked close, they chatted like magpies. ‘Well, there is the Old Man again,’ Claude Crow said. ‘He never seems to snap enough photos,’ Claude continued. ‘You will know him by the hats he wears,’ CC laughed. ‘He is a bit of a peculiar chap,’ CC observed. ‘He listens to Audible.com,’ Claude offered. ‘I would like a subscription to Audible.com for Christmas; it is a quiet time of year, and I want a hat like the Old Man,’ Claude Crow exclaimed. ‘I want a leather Outback Hat like OM wears in the winter months,’ CC said with satisfaction. ‘Then I will walk with him in the woods, and we will discuss world affairs,’ CC noted with a big smile.

So we are together again. There is much to do. What talents we have hidden in the closet or on the Earth are needed to help each other. In the tradition of a good horror flick, the monster is in the house. While we peer out our windows for danger, our enemy is behind us. We now pick fights with our best friends, neighbors, those who care about our welfare. We look for The Other rather than take responsibility for our mistakes. A childish, sophomoric name for those we want to demean. When a logical question is posed, the leader lashes out for vengeance, a pound of flesh to prove the point that the leader can do no wrong.

The days of Halloween monsters are here. Frankenstein will smoke a cigar with the blind man and smile, saying, Cigars are good.’ The Creature from the Black Lagoon will seek solace and understanding. Ichabod Crane will run from the Headless Horseman. We will sit by the campfire in the fall chill. S’mores, hot chocolate, and ghost stories.

‘Have you seen my wings, honey?’ I know I put them in the closet somewhere, McGee said as he slowly opened the closet door.

The Old Man woke up on September Morn. He waited for this experience all year. He likes it all, but he loves the BER Months. No hint of fall yet. Ninety-eight degrees. Heat Dome. He did not request a Dome of any kind. A butterfly was his friend in the Woods this morning. The butterfly would not leave. B. Fly knew the Old Man liked his company.

Leaves were falling on this first of September. The Woods understands what time it is. The baby turkeys have grown. They are excited to be in the world. The Song of the Fall is beginning. It is a pleasant song that hearkens back to precious memories. The Bible says that all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Why do we choose to believe lies when we are surrounded by truth? Joy, peace, hope, and love are our companions if our eyes are not diverted by gold, greed, and bias. We humans, tend to create our own reality a bit with brick and mortar and golden statues. Cities where the skyscrapers reach to Heaven and block the sky.

‘Why worry about tomorrow?’ Guardian Angel said. ‘You have clothes, food, and a place to lay your head,’ Guardian Angel continued. ‘ Did you help to raise the Sun this morning?’ Guardian Angel noted. ‘Mr. Butterfly worries not yet is cared for,’ Guardian Angel winked. ‘Humanity wants what it does not possess and when gained is still disappointed,’ Guardian Angel laughed. ‘Whatever your name is affixed to is not yours; vanity and vexation of spirit,’ Guardian Angel said.

We are happy dust. A spirit inside a clay jar. We know better; we have been better; our real home is better; we remember and weep for our childish ways. How does a man begin as a baby, grow and become a baby again?

The door to happiness, fulfillment, and a sense of place we walk through each morning. We rise from our bed with our magnificent reconstituted body of Dust to meet the day. The mystery is what can be done with Spirit and Dust!

Dreaming of fall. August has reached its last day. It is 95 degrees. A few leaves are changing. Cool weather is coming. Fall colors will brighten our spirits. Cool breezes will quicken our steps. When September comes, we know we must get about our business. The Holidays are here. It is time for fall decorations, Halloween decorations, Thanksgiving decorations, and Christmas Decorations. There are so many decorations with the BER Months that January seems blase. This year the scary stories will be scarier. This year we will be truly thankful. This year we will have the ‘hap hap happiest Christmas since Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny F—–g Kaye.’

The Quiet are watching. Are we the home of the tempest tost? As we wassail and dance, can the children called Want and Ignorance look out from beneath the coat of the Ghost of Christmas Present and see us in our revelry?

‘It is a hot beginning for September,’ the Old Man mused with Mr. Badger and Mr. Mole on his walk in the woods. ‘It does not seem like fall is almost here,’ the Old Man said. ‘We must have a celebration on the river with all of our friends,’ the Old Man said joyfully.

‘We shall invite Trump, who is friends with the Weasels, to our party,’ Badger said. ‘The Weasels are a tricky bunch, but they do enjoy an autumn party on the river,’ Badger continued. ‘It is said the President is a teetotaller, but I know for a fact he enjoys a bit of hot apple cider,’ Mr. Badger winked.

So darkness is almost here. The long days yield to September. The Bullfrog Quartet is about to begin their nightly performance. They have been practicing; they are in good voice. They delight in the coming of fall. This year they are booked for a fall tour of Europe. The Frog Quartet is loved in the United Kingdom at Christmas.