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I HAVE A ROUTE. IT'S MY WALKING route, and if I were a well-disciplined person, I would be following it every day. As it is, I'm out there walking The Walk about every other day, on average. That's in agreeable weather. And that's in agreeable seasons. And that's also when I force myself to take the time. Otherwise, its anybody's guess whether I can muster up the effort to put on my walking shoes and hike up the road. When I say "up the road" it's quite literal, as I live on a fairly steep hill. In fact, it's so steep that I never choose to walk down the hill because down is longer and "what goes down must come up." Up is more arduous on the down section of the hill. Okay, did I make myself as clear as mud? I thought so.

Anyhow, my route starts out uphill...for the first five minutes. It's wooded to my left; I can't see the western sky, where the sun is fast sinking to the horizon. But when I reach the crest of the hill (slightly winded)



the road makes a big curve to the left and my reward for the climb lies ahead...the panorama of the sky and a long, gently undulating stretch that takes me straight ahead to the Amish farm

where Jakie and Rachel and their four youngest children live. The road splits the farm--the house and main barn on the right and the garden on the left. I'd have some photos of both to show, were it not for the fact that Rachel was out picking lima beans in her garden this evening. "We're getting a bumper crop of them this year," she told me. "And they're bringing so much money at market, they're almost too valuable for us to eat!"

I say goodbye to Rachel. Up ahead is the Amish schoolhouse, such a short walk for Rachel's kids!

I'm still on The Walk, and the sun is now dropping below the horizon. I know from experience the daytime show in the sky is beginning its grand finale.
Before long it's earnestly dark, and I turn to retrace my steps.

Ha! It looks for all the world like the Amish have rigged up electric lights for their school!
I'd happily extend The Walk if darkness weren't stumbling all over and falling around me--I'd turn left at the school.

But I can't stop the light from fading. I head for the bend in the road, and just before I go around it, I say a final goodbye to the sun and snap this picture for you, Dear Reader. Thanks for tagging along!

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I'VE NEVER BEEN much of an animal-lover, but ever since my Dark-haired Daughter left for college four years ago, I've been the sole caretaker of her cat, and I've become quite fond of her (I'm talking about the cat here. I've always been quite fond of my daughter, always). It's that Sassy's so old, and she so appreciates me. She lives outside, sleeps under the front porch, but spends her days as Queen of the Kitchen Porch. That's where she eats from the ceramic dishes I bought for her (she is a dignified cat, Reader Dear. I felt she deserved better than plastic.)


Every morning without fail she is intently watching the window in the kitchen door, longing to see me. Now, the time of day when I remember she is out there waiting for food can vary by many hours. Usually it is in the morning. Often it is when I'm on my way out the door on some other business and I must set down my load of accessories (er, you know, purse, keys, lots of etc) and go for the cat food.   I can't bear to leave her hungry.

The amazing thing is that she is always looking up at me when I glance out the kitchen window, no matter the time of day. Until she is fed, I am the most important person in the world to her. Who can resist such adoration?!  After she is fed, she still loves and appreciates me.
 She's just too dignified to show it.




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AFTER WEEKS OF NO rain, we got it in cats and dogs today! Hurricane Hanna arrived to rescue us from brown crunchy grass and withered plants, gasping for moisture. The green things were dancing wildly in their glee, as you can see....and I was (not dancing) but happy as well, even though it was not the kind of weather that is conducive to hauling cardboard and newspapers to the recycling center.

Nor was it pleasant to load up cars and a U-Haul in steady rain--it's what my son and his wife, his father-in-law and various helpers were doing this morning, in preparation for an out-of-state move.

Most of my help was conveniently accomplished indoors. But when they headed off toward their destination, they left boxloads of "another man's treasures" in my car. Indeed, lots of boxloads and bagfuls. In a rush to dispose of it, I drove directly to the thrift shop. Of course, that's when Hanna really let loose! If someone opens a faucet over your head, it's a little hard to function.

Thus, I slogged two boxes out of the car, fought the wind with my umbrella, gave up, and drove home soaked to the skin. Then I stepped outside my kitchen door and took this little clip of nature. If you look closely you can see the sheets of rain descending.




And then Mr. ROY G. BIV showed up with an "oops-forgive-me" to all those folks who had planned a big barbeque, a yard sale or (gasp) an outdoor wedding. Look at him there, calmly gracing the sky just an hour or two after I took the video!


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MORE PEPPER PORTRAITS. Remember that post back in July, when I doubted my ability to twiddle my thumbs and forego harvesting the lovely green peppers nearly breaking down the branches of my pepper plant? Well, here you have it folks...my reward for waiting! Peppers can store up solar power like nobody's business, generously delivering it to you via whopping portions of Vitamin C and beta carotene. Not to mention their eye appeal! The vegetable bin in my refrigerator is like a jewelry box when I've got a couple of these adding pizazz to the jumble of zucchinis and squash. They certainly do accessorize a salad of any sort.

These three, the first of my harvest, were so stunning that I had to use resolve to cut into them. There went the work of art I'd made by tucking a flashy little patty-pan* between them. And there went my bounty. There are plenty more that are blushing furiously, but still adolescent. Considering the fact that when they've been drizzled with olive oil, lightly sprinkled with salt, and roasted, I could quite easily chow down one or two of these big mamas at one sitting, three seems a skimpy number.

*Patty-Pan. I love that name. The silly part of my brain must follow it with Daddy-Dan.


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DO YOU RECOGNIZE this skyline? Hint: It's along the "Magnificent Mile." Hint #2: It's where I spent the Labor Day weekend. Okay, so that's not much of a hint if you weren't clued in to my plans. I'll just say I was in Chicago. For the first time ever. Since I spent a good bit of time rhapsodizing about the weather and the architecture and the cleanliness and the beauty, it's a good bet that I enjoyed the city. Sorry I wasn't more diligent obtaining photos of the lake, the fountains, the overflowing planters filled with flowers along all the sidewalks, the street performers and more of the incredible architecture.

On the other hand, you are spared a shot of the mold growing on the bathroom ceiling of our hotel room (Red Roof Inn on Ontario Street...I suggest you don't fall for its cheap rates, even though it is just a half-block from that magnificent Michigan Ave. I had to bum a glass of ice water from the neighboring sidewalk restaurant when the vending machine ate my money and gave me no plastic bottle of H20. Red Roof suggested I walk a half block to the 7-11 Store for water...at 11:30pm). Tut. Tut. I shouldn't be griping. I loved the jambalaya and rice and beans at Heaven on Seven, the Cajun restaurant on the seventh floor of some building on the famous mile. The art museum was nearly as fine as the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and the green areas of the city were quite beguiling...such a worthy place to spend hours on a no-labor holiday.

The tour of the city from the top of the double-decker bus was a very touristy thing to do. And so appropriate, since that's exactly what we were (my husband and I)! Being my usual curious self, I hung on every word from the guide, who seemed to know all there was to know about the buildings, the history and the trivia.

Add in just one visit to friends in Elmhurst (a suburb), who included in their number little Simon Miguel. He calmly looked at me with all the wisdom of his eight days of life, and I knew that he was the most miraculous sight we'd see in our entire visit to Chicago!