rejectomorph

As it was a bit warmer tonight, I was able to spend some time watching the stars in shirtsleeves (meaning I was in shirtsleeves, not the stars, which would just be silly.) That lone cricket who yet survives was chirping most of the night. It must be a remarkably hardy little bug, to have lasted this long. Its chirp grows louder and deeper as it ages, too, so it clearly is not suffering decline as a result of its advanced age. There's nothing wrong with the insect's hearing either. Whenever I crush underfoot one of the dried leaves which now decorate the yard, it stops chirping briefly, until it is sure that no danger approaches. If this cricket has procreated, I expect that its progeny will flourish next year, and that their music will fill many nights.

I was expecting to go out and do various monthly errands yesterday afternoon, and rose early for that purpose, but my plans were derailed. Thus, I must wake early again this afternoon, for the third day in a row. I fear that this accumulating sleep deficit will have dire consequences.

Online Autumn Quiz With Oddly Grim Outcome:

You Are Changing Leaves