On Second Thought

This morning, I took an item out to the mailbox shortly after I decided not to run my usual three miles. I'd showered and had a list of things I wanted to get done, and was feeling purposeful. Indeed, I got outside and decided that I was right: it was too beautiful a day to run. I had to walk instead.

We are at that magic time of year in Indiana that hovers between summer and fall. Some of the maple leaves are beginning to turn color; the locust trees and burning bushes are already clearly underway. The sky is unrealistically blue and the air chilly (the temps have been in the 50's and 60's) and the sunshine, as a favorite childhood authoress put it once, gives everything a blue edge. I strolled my three miles with leisure; stopping to watch hawks on the light wind, a heron hunched moodily at the edge of a pond, and the light dancing off the dew of the clover leaves and flowers and chicory blossoms with yellow sulphur butterflies still huddling among the leaves. I was wearing what I call my 'freaking orange sweatshirt' because it is so danged bright. It has a screaming yellow collar. I've gotten alot of compliments on it. It is a day of bright colors. The air is cold and the sun warm.

The trouble is, this sort of day often makes me too squirrelly to be very productive. Even the cats are behaving oddly, zipping around like madmen and wrestling the throw rugs. So I am trying to get dinner started (pork stroganoff, a nice fall meal) and ingredients cut up so that I can toss them in the skillet and not fuss. I doubt I shall get to the ironing....