Mother Nature, like Father Time, will move at her own pace. I complained that the leaves had not turned to reds as well as yellows. They hadn’t. Then. It’s the end of November and look what pleasures she has wrought.


Mother Nature, like Father Time, will move at her own pace. I complained that the leaves had not turned to reds as well as yellows. They hadn’t. Then. It’s the end of November and look what pleasures she has wrought.



These two illustrated vehicles both represent some good transit options. The dismantled yellow bike no doubt the better of them.
Simon is cutting hair today. Salvo’s is closed. An uneven start to finding open establishments.
I saw the first poinsettias of the season today. Wanted to shout that at the young man making the delivery but his earbudds precluded meaningful communication.
It’s warm for Thanksgiving Thursday.**
**I added the unnecessary “Thursday” in case they turn the holiday into an official long weekend. It would then come complete with its own sales day.

There are places to sit. I know I mentioned this before but Le Petit Parisien has an excellent cappuccino. You know where else the coffee’s good? My local D’Agostino. Yeah, I too was surprised.


Wishing you the best for the holiday season.
Thanks Giving is the kick-off event.
Kick-off in more than one sense as football is such a big part of the day.
We go from here. Turkeys have been pardoned, although many more have been roasted. Pies have been baked or bought and consumed along with much more.
Sated, we are prepared to be grateful for all we have and all we share.
The day itself is a ritual of gratitude. It’s a reminder to us that we have it pretty good.
Gratitude is not a bad rite to celebrate. We could, really give it our full attention- without the distractions of turkey, pumpkin pie and football- 365 and on those leap years 366.
We know that a red sky [at night]
Portends a clear day [at morning]
What, prithee, does a sky of pink
Foretell? Should we expect our
Day to show uncertainty rather
Than clarity? Erring [of course]
On the side of delighting sailors?
I tend to think [rather without
Evidence] that the pink is red
Shivering from the cold, made
Pale by temperatures too low
For comfort, too high for frost.
Pink sky at dusk, warm up the
Cabin, Captain [and if you must
Sail] wear long Johns and a parka.