Patience

The storm's passing has brought the coldest night yet this year. The season's color will soon be reaching its peak. The dogwoods across the street are now at their deepest shade of red, and only the smaller of the tow trees has as yet dropped many of its leaves. The walnut tree is at last yellowing, but the leaves to which the mulberry clings are mostly still green, while those it has shed are yellow. The oaks, too, tend to drop those leaves which have turned color (mostly brown) and to retain those that are still somewhat green. A few more cold nights ought to hurry the oaks along nicely. Soon the chilly nights will display more of their stars as the foliage vanishes.


I've gotten myself into another of those situations where I'm ready to sleep, but I'm waiting for a big page to download. I always seem to find such pages too late in the night, and I never want to wait until a more opportune moment to nab them. This one is at 8.3MB and only about 3/4 loaded. It's a goatload of photos of downtown Los Angeles, a lot of them showing the older buildings along the more easterly streets. My favorite part, of course. I don't mind waiting for them. I just wish I were waiting earlier.

Cat Lunacy

I live with the weirdest cat ever. Every once in a while she will suddenly begin acting as though I were a strange and threatening beast who had invaded her territory. This afternoon, after she had nagged me for a few minutes, I gave her a bowl of food and then, while she was eating, I went out to fetch the mail. Returning, I noticed that the cat had left her meal and was watching me through the front window. When I entered the house, she gave me a saucer-eyed look that indicated great suspicion.

She wouldn't come near me, and headed for the back room. Thinking she probably wanted to go outside, I followed her and opened the back door, but she kept several feet away from me and nervously eyed the door into the garage (on the other side of the room from where I stood) as though she might be able to make an escape through it if only it were open wide enough. She refused to approach the back door I was holding open for her until I stood back from it at arms length, and then she darted through it, not even pausing to see if any real dangers lurked outside.

Half an hour later when she wanted back in, her inexplicable fear had passed and she was quite happy to hop onto a chair and beg me to pet her. I wonder if she is subject to temporary fits of amnesia during which she can't remember who I am? Or maybe she's just a bit crazy. Maybe she needs a kitty shrink. Or maybe she knows something I don't. Maybe I get taken over by some alien entity now and then, and she's the only one who realizes it.