Typhoon Season

Denny got in late last night, amid the remnants of a tropical typhoon. Walking outside this morning, the air was warm and still, but the drive and yard had the washed-over look of a beach--the wind and rain having swept them clean of any surface debris.

While I have been distracted by my Mom's health concerns, autumn has come in full force. During the past two weeks, the fireweed has turned from red to brown, the grass from green to yellow. Once the hard frosts hit, the vegetation will lie down, revealing the contours of the land once again until May.

I have purposely left the marking of graves and cleaning of our little cat cemetary until this late season in order to aid in the locating of the disturbed earth. Hannah's is the only spot not marked by a wooden slab, but we put her close to Whiskers, so I know where she is. Not to be morbid, but it probably wouldn't hurt to make a couple new holes, just in case. Our feline population stretches in age from eighteen to three years in age (not counting Lola, the kitten, whose presence is supposed to be temporary) with heavy concentration in the thirteen-to-eighteen age range. It isn't unthinkable that we will lose a cat or two to the ravages of age in the next seven or eight months.

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