Arrrrrr!

September 19th be International Talk Like a Pirate Day- now with its own Flickr picture stream! Lots of pictures of people dressed as pirates. It seems to me that pirate costume is not essential to pirate speech. I do hope that commercialism isn't ruining this holiday! More appropriate than pictures would be LJ Talk Like a Pirate Voice Posts. If I had a local number to call, I'd make one. Or maybe not, as my pirate voice isn't all that good. Would a Ken Lay impression count?

A little while ago, I heard several deer running along the street. This was just before the guy at the end of the block started his noisy truck. He probably startled them when he came out of his house. If I'd been outdoors at the time, I might have gotten a decent look at them, as the moon is still high and bright, but by the time I got to the door they had passed far up the street. After the noisy neighbor departed, I stayed out for a while, as when the deer go up the street this time of morning, they sometimes return after a few minutes, but they didn't today.

The cooling weather has considerably reduced the pollen count. I no longer feel as though I were coming down with a cold. Now, it's only an occasional sneeze and a bit of a stuffy feeling. Apparently, I'm not going to die just yet. This pleases me, especially since I'm now hearing acorns fall more often, and I always enjoy listening to them crash on the rooftops and roll down to drop with a soft thud on the ground. I'd like to survive long enough to hear a really big acorn crop set up a nightly clatter. Last year there were fewer than usual, but the oaks appear to be well-laden this year. The wet spring was good for them. I'm probably as happy as the squirrels are about that.

Arrr, time for bed. I'll talk like a pirate in me sleep!

Seeing Night Fall

Exhausted summer's days are no longer furiously hot, but, panting like spent runners who have collapsed at the dusty roadside, sunburned and dehydrated, waiting for their breath to slow, lie still and watch the vacant sky fade into dusk. Evening brings the sustained shrillness of excited arthropods, sounding the late alarm for a season already nearly burned away. The sound sets long, wheat-colored stalks of dessicated grass vibrating in all the arid fields. Though the afternoons cling to summer, the nights quickly give way to autumn's advance. Only the heated soil holds long to the sun's memory, warming those agitated insects. The air sighs and grows cool, the trees shiver their foliage, and the stars sparkle pale blue light bereft of all heat. I lie by afternoon's side, listening to its labored breath decline, keeping watch as it passes into darkness. It will do the same for me someday.