I sat in a field
and let my left ear bake in the sun
until it was done
I turned and toasted my other side.
I have a love hate relationship with fall. I love the colors. I hate the shortened days. I love the crisp wind. I hate going back to work. I love the harvest. I hate canning the harvest.
When I was in kindergarten, my family moved to the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Fall came early and I remember curling up with my white kitten in the bright patches of sun that warmed our back patio. I would lie on my side, watching the red and gold leaves swirl down from the tree in the backyard. Then, when I was sufficiently warm, I would turn to face the brick wall and take a mid-afternoon cat nap.
It’s a good thing my house is almost a half a mile off the road, because I still like to do this. I suspect that if I lived in the suburbs, my neighbors would find the sight of a middle aged woman curled up on the concrete with her cat a strange and troublesome sight.
Oops! Now you know. If you come to my house on a day that smells like apples, and I don’t open the door to your knock, just mosey on around to the back. You’ll find me sprawled on the warm rocks of my patio. I hope you'll pull up a cat and join me.