Saturday, 20 October 2012

The Portrayal Betrayal

 Everyone on the planet sees things differently than everyone else. It might be fractionally different, but still there is at least a difference. I like chocolate ice cream and so does Megan, but I also like pralines and cream and she would rather eat dead bugs. Most of the time people are entitled to there own opinions even if they are wrong, Some people like abstract art and think it's genius. That is their deluded stupid opinion and that's how they foolishly perceive the world. Megan and I perceive the world in different ways too. Hers is more cynical and having fun at others expense.

 Watching the evening news one night the anchor was bringing us a story and he must of been the bane of Megan's existence because she said, " what is this nerdlinger going on about?" the nerd was wearing glasses. I shuddered at what she must think of me. The "nerdlinger" was going on about a bunch of refugees in some middle east country. They went to one of them and he was describing on how they were on the run from some war. "Loser.Get a job" she told the man in tattered clothes and then giggled at how funny she was. A little harsh I thought, but I laughed a little. It's best to give her attention because if you don't and she notices it, she will do everything in her power to get that attention. She will just keep going and going until I acknowledge her. One time I didn't laugh at one of her stinging little quips she harangued me to no end. "That was gold, baby. Pure gold." she waved her hand. "Ah, my friends would think that was hilarious."

 Driving is an even better treat. Sitting behind someone turning left and there is obvious room for the person to go and they don't, she'll say "C'mon fatso you're driving not walking so move it!" It is even worse following a guy that is going slow. "I would think someone would wwant to get home fast to see their boyfriend." as she grips the steering wheel hard. More than once I have had to yell at her to warn her of someone ahead who is braking or turning and she is fust looking around everywhere but the road, Then there are the times she stops at a red light and looks both ways then goes through. I will ask, "What are you doing?" and she'll just laugh, "Oh yah."

 Once sitting down at McDonald's at lunch with Megan and Reagan we noticed a man with a cane crossing the parking lot. He was having a hard go, but he managed and easily maneuvered up the one stair. He looked like he was alone when he sat down behind us, but Megan noticed. The next time I looked there was a rather large woman sitting with him. Megan had seen that I noticed and piped up."Yah, we didn't see her. She must have just flew in."  She has a ton of little observational quotes: "Look at those greasy Italians.", Drunken Irish potato blanker.", "Is that a Brit or a horse?" or even seeing a truck buried in a snow bank, "You stunned newfie." And don't get on her bad side. Every year a parade goes by just south of our house and she doesn't like how it blocks traffic in and out for a couple of hours. It keeps her from going out and getting her hockey cards. Well this year she has a plan to get back at them. A couple of weeks before the parade she asked out neighbour Bill and my father for some live traps. She used then around our house and out in the woods near Darlington Park. The night before the parade she stashed the filled traps in the brush in  Rundle Park which lines the parade route just south of our house. When the parade was in full fling she went down there and released the traps. Four scared skunks ran from their prisons and out into the middle of the parade. People were screaming like they were shot and the smell. She was happy for weeks after.

 Now this all seems pretty harsh , but it must be told.  


The preceding statements may or may not have been true and I cannot confirm nor deny that the roles were reversed to protect the truly  guilty. I can't be held accountable for my writings and or my actions. What is this, Canada?

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Things You Think Of Just Before You Fall Asleep

The covers lay loosely upon you, not tucked in. God, you feel held down if they're tucked in. Your head has sunk in to the pillow. Darkness surrounds you. You sink deeper and deeper in to your mattress. You feel like you are getting heavier but your body feels like it is expanding; reverting to a sub atomic form, becoming infinite. The Specter of sleep reaches from his dark abyss to pull you down and you welcome it, sinking deeper into the bed. Your brain cunning and quick, moves against you. "Did I lock the front door?" Reality snaps back in and you open your eyes. Looking around in the dark you search your mind to see if you did lock the door. Throwing the covers off you head downstairs. Great.

Sleep is wonderful, but why does your brain conspire against you from time to time? I mean your brain does it every night to you(conspire). It paralyzes you and forces you to watch various dreams ranging from: fighting your way out of thirty pirate ninjas with books to laying in a sun drenched meadow with all the Care Bears. So why does it also make you think of stupid little things just before you fall asleep?

Laying in bed in our new home for the first time Megan and I were all ready for sleep. Drifting towards it there was a sudden pop. Like when someone is walking across the floorboards. It was so quiet that each of the pops were like rifle blasts. Of course it was just the house settling. Some of you think that maybe it was a ghost, but no. There are no such things as ghosts. You have never heard or seen one. The sound we heard was just the wood in our house expanding or contracting. Houses are heavy and the ground is always moving and shifting. Therefore the house pushes and pulls down on the wood or beams or maybe something as simple as air escaping the wood. You have never seen a ghost either. It is just light or shadow or an animal, your brain makes up a lot of stuff you can't quite see of fully interpret. Your brain gathers what your eyes sees and tries to make sense of it. It looked like an arm so it must of been an arm. It tries to form something, you just think it's unexplainable so you instantly go for ghost. If I was a ghost I would be doing everything I could to scare people and get them to freak out. I would appear to them. I would make a rock float before your eyes. Hell,  if I was a ghost I would wander onto a news program and pants the weather man, Then shove the anchors papers down his throat. There are a lot more worse people dead than I. They would of tried worse and you would have seen it by now. But you can tell your children there are ghosts, it's fun to scare children.

 Other things happen just before you fall asleep. You start thinking will I have a good or a bad dream?
Or will it be the crazy dream? The dream where when you go through a door you are in a different place. I was in a lavish library. Dark hardwood floors with red carpet runners, two stories of tomes you could access with a ladder that slides across the width, a second story balcony enclave with a marble floor. When I went to leave, I went through and door and I was in a field with roman columns. The next instant I was on a round hay bale fighting Darth Vader. When I first entered it was a bright sunny day, but now it was foggy, but a brown fog. Then it seemed I had enough of the fight with Darth Vader and decided I wanted to fly. Unfortunately I was still in the brown fog, so I saw nothing but fog. All I needed to do was think about flying and I did. Soon though, I was falling. My bright idea to save myself was to stick out an arm, then I just woke up.

 The next instance is:  I think,: what is it like just before you fall asleep? What happens? Because one moment you're calming down and your brain is easing and then you wake up and it's the next morning. Is there a switch? I lose grip on what I am thinking just before I fall asleep. Everything shuts down. I stop thinking about anything. It"s weird. Tomorrow I have to get up at six and King st .and....nothing you just stop, then you're awake the next morning. If I start thinking about the time when I start to trail off thinking to the time I fall asleep. I start thinking even more and harder. I am up. I am up just like I had a shot of caffeine. Great. Then I try to capture that moment of when I go to sleep. I try to commit it to memory so I will remember what it is like so I don't do this ever again, But this never happens. I just start thinking about other stuff. Like, will the dog finally kill me in the middle of the night by flopping down on my chest instead of my legs? What was that noise? Did that boat in the painting just move? And those eyes in that picture, did they just blink? What is this, Scooby-Doo? Mmm sleep......Alarm? Dammit!


Sunday, 14 October 2012

In Accordance With My Prison Release

 No, not really. I have never been to prison and never want to. Actually that isn't true. I have been to Warkworth Penitentiary, but just to locate telephone cables and gas services. It was quite interesting. Of course I had to have ID and two guards had to escort me around to protect me just in case anyone was going to or wanted to "shank" me and maybe see if I wasn't bringing in contraband or trying to "spring" anyone. Ha! Yah, Jeremy Magee Prisoner Liberator or heroin mule. I think not. The guards at the front gate said if I am not out by noon the place goes into lock-down for an hour where no one can get in or out. Great. If that happens, I will come out with a tattoo and maybe a fear of the outside world after my spell in the "big clink". Unsure how to get along in the free world. Needless to say I was out well before noon. One of the contractors that was there walking around outside of the penitentiary with me said make sure you locate the cables right on because the inmates will go nuts if they don't have their TV. Really? TV? Those
 pricks are in jail for breaking whatever law they broke and they get TV all day? I have an HD antenna. Free TV. We didn't want to pay cable and satellite for garbage programming. The HD antenna is great. I only really miss TSN. But these inmates get cable. Such is Life in a Federal Prison.

 Never. Never would I do something that would end me up in jail. I enjoy doing whatever I please whenever I please. Like right now I could go out to the store and get some smokes or buy some lottery tickets. Go to bed in my comfy big bed, go to a baseball game, watch my son and daughter in whatever misadventure they have gotten me into and not go to the bathroom where everyone can watch. Maybe I can understand a crime of passion, where you lose your mind for a bit, but not think, "Hey . I'm going to knock over a bank." and think that is a great idea. No. No it is not. Baking biscuits for a snack is a good idea. Baking up some Meth isn't one.

 Standing before his parole board, Jeremy trembled a little inside. Showing fear could be mistaken for lying or being deceptive. He had answered all the questions put to him honestly and thought things were going to turn out well. He hoped. Putting your fate into someone else's hands was hard. You didn't know what or how they were thinking. If they believed you, had a bad day or just didn't like your face. He knew they had come to their decision when their heads pulled apart and their gazed leveled upon him. "You are granted parole and you must meet these condition whilst on parole." The one in the middle looked at me square and said,

"First, You have to stay away and not watch any reality shows".


 "Second, You must write a blog, at least twice a week."


 "And third. You must enjoy your family and do your best to stay happy."

Done. This was going to be easy.

Saturday, 13 October 2012

Blog and Vlog

A couple of weeks ago I ventured into the terribly exciting world of Blogs, I still don't know what blog stands for and I am not going to look up what it means either. For all intents and purposes it could mean battery log or even bacon log. Mmm I like that one. It sounds more appealing. Where is my sandwich...? If I had to venture a guess, it would of been a loser named Bobtana who liked Star Trek and thought it would be cool to write down his thoughts like a captains log. You know what would be cool? If Bobtana's name was Brutus or Banjo. Or maybe some Buttwad wanted to convey his/her thoughts and would hope that there are some idiots out there stupid enough to read the crap(Dear valued readers, I assure you that I do not consider you idiots. I believe you to be in the 90 percentile of, Jeremy) Well this Buttwad has some stories and thoughts to convey so you idiots get ready.

A blog. A way to tell people what is going on in this 3/4" concrete skull of mine. Well, almost. Will people read it? I hope so. Everyone has an ego and enjoys it being stroked. The next one is will people like it? I am sure that people will like it, my Mommy and Megan tell me I am funny or was that handsome? No, that's the dog. Nuts, I'm in a lot of trouble. It seems pretty easy. It's like writing essay's back In high school. Except this is interesting and something I want to do. No, let's read Shakespeare because the style and spelling is so relevant to today. It just seems like if a stupid person wants to feel and sound smart all they have to do is quote Shakespeare. I am not going to quote him so relax, unless you count "the" and "is". Though thanks for giving me something to write about(English class). And I was taught essay's to prepare me for this. I guess there is some useful things in school. I write this not to become famous, but just to write and I hope that others may enjoy the stories or little activities that go on around the house. Not all of them, I plan on the blog being G-rated. For right now it is easy to come up with the titles and the guts that lay within. The world opens up and there is an inexhaustible well of stuff(for lack of a better word) and I try my best to paint what it shows me. If I was really painting it it would be just sticks. I am a horrible artist.

 Vlog. This I know. It's a video log. Why anyone would put their face on camera on purpose is beyond me. They are so vacuous, "I like stuff, ya know. And Brittany said that Sabrina was like yah for sure and sometimes I can pass a 36" long tube right through one ear an' out the other and nuthing happens. Well, I giggle a little." The guys are not much better. "Yah! I killed 50 dudes today, Bra's! (explicative) Yah! Then I looked up chicks cause I couldn't possible talk to a real one face to face cause that would constitute going outside and getting my thumb out of my ass!"  Well, they aren't all like that....I'm sure... You may say the reason I wouldn't do a Vlog is because I am too ugly to be on camera and would cause children to cry and pregnant woman to have their babies early. You might be right, but I like to think that Video can be used for so much more precious things. Like your son riding a bike without training wheels for the first time. Or your daughter screaming with utter joy in the leaves for the first time like it was a Christmas present she has always wanted.

 I only have a little advice for this, not Vlogs, but Blogs. Vlogs, Who cares? Keep spitting out your nonsense about what cheese is better than which or  who you hate and what he wrote about you(in general) in his Blog. Just because you can't articulate what you are thinking into writing doesn't mean you have to punish the rest of us, It's easy, words and punctuation. I will even help you. Just highlight all of what you have written and delete it, and go back to whatever empty thoughtless thing you were doing. Uhm...Oh, yeah. Sorry for the digression. The only advice I could give you about Blogs would be not to be dark. Dark is easy, anyone can think of bad thoughts. Try making someone happy or laugh...or worse yet,think

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Written From An IPod

Such great little wonders. Listen to music, podcasts(that is the one I really enjoy), play a game, use an app for scheduling or whatnot. Type a whole blog? Could you imagine? In your wildest dreams. As a kid laying in bed staring at the ceiling dreaming of hammering out a blog on a music player? No! Who cares?!! Obvious someone thought of this, but it pales in comparison to so many other feats of human achievement. The car, airplanes, even the music player itself, filled with hundreds of songs. But to type out a blog on it. Big deal.

I got my little gem off of kijiji from a teenage girl in Courtice. No, I didn't beat her up for it. It cost me $90. I thought that was a great deal. A fourth generation iPod touch. I save over $100. And worth every penny. Of course I knew about apps, but to experience them first hand was cool. The games are neat. The prices for music, games, and apps are mainly reasonable. Podcast are my favorite though. Listening to something I really want to know about instead of inane dj chatter or news radio is wonderful. The same crappy music over and over again? No thanks. Give me Skeptics Guide To The Universe, Mohr Stories, Sklarboro Country or Skeptics With A K.

Typing on this thing is interesting. It has taken my four nights to pound out this blog piece. The keyboard is pretty good. Most of the time my fingers hit the correct key, but every once and awhile my fingers would mash a couple of key or just the wrong key all together. A sentence that goes like this would end up like this: "A sentebce that gioes like this would e nd like tyis". Not bad, but when you have to go back and correct every seven words or so it is a little tedious. I guess it's the consequence of having big fingers. As Megan would make fun of me, but I think I would look odd with dainty little hands at six foot four.

This blog isn't going to be a long post. I don't have the patience to write on anything as small as an iPod for very long. The screen is too small for constant viewing. I don't understand how the snot noses can spend all day watching Lady Gaga on this thing. And my neck and arm is getting tired hammering on this thing. It is good to have around for jotting down ideas whenever and just before I go to sleep. Those ones make for an interesting read the next day. "Sometimes tuna isn't the hamburger with the eyes and pearls through a neck brace"...Ok.

Besides I have a lot of important work to do around this couch. If I don't do it who will? Aww, I just thought of something. This screen is only about two inches wide. I have probably only written enough for a comic strip. Screw it and to hell with ya. My hero trophy needs polishing.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

Addendum to: I Find I Am Not The Funniest In My House Anymore

 Sitting outside having a cigar and looking on the internet(Phew! It is still there), I could hear Reagan screaming. I had thought she had went to bed. Guess she is having a bad  night and Mommy couldn't be having a good one either considering she was supposed to be doing yoga. I had finished and was coming inside to see what was wrong. The upstairs light was on and Megan was still doing yoga. "Get over here and see your daughter." Megan said laughing a little. That is when I heard, " Dad, Dad, Dad."  Coming further into the house I could see Reagan was actually having a good night. While I was outside Reagan had decided she wasn't tired and needed up. Her face was purple. From left jawbone to right jawbone was blackberries, blueberries and strawberries. The berry trifecta. As I came into view her face split in a berry smile. "Ah!" she yelled at me. Meaning what? I guess get the hell over here Dad! Sitting down beside her, she convulsed in glee. Screaming and chittering, pointing at everything, excited to be up. So this is what you guys do when I am asleep, she must have thought. Yup. sit and watch TV and try to relax. Exciting is it not? Done with the screaming and chittering, she moves on to a great classic game. She throws a blackberry on the floor then points at it. I look down and notice there are other berries down there too. I pick up one and put it on her tray. She points at the others and says, "get that!" Oh, good. Now she is bossy like her Mother. And when I pick up the rest she squeals and tightens up her legs. Oh, what a great game! Then as quickly as this game has started it is over. "You and It are boring now, Dad." She wants down now. Possibly to grab Megans' Iphone or to press all the buttons on the remote control so that all the buttons light up. Sigh...

Coming soon: Reagan Vs. ..........

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Try Really Hard Not To Come Up With Long Titles

 Have you ever been to an Ape Ghetto? Is there burnt out trees? Banana peels all over the place? A silverback passed out on the forest floor with a paper bag lying beside him? If you walk through are you mugged? I doubt it. You'd probably be killed or worse, maybe a silverback would capture you and pimp you out. When you don't bring enough bananas to him does he beat his chest and fling poop at you? A little derogatory, but what else do you do when you have fallen off Mt.Crazy and are still falling? Too many questions, but I don't think they will stop even if I could stop them.

 It's Sunday and the toaster has ran away. Why? I dunno. Maybe he is mad that I don't take him into the tub with me. He's too shiny. I don't like his blue eyes staring me down and that scruffy face, he should know I have a razor . Lazy prick. And why does he get naked too to get into the tub. I enjoy taking my other buddies in to the tub, Crabberfish and Octerpuss. Other than that, Sunday was a good day. The sun started showering diamonds by mid afternoon. They weren't my colour, but I am sure other people enjoyed them. After that things started to settle down, the walrus's started their lengthy migration south. I knew this because a lot of them had sunglasses and those long fold up chairs on their back. The spaceship from Lokid came swooping by and asked if I wanted a ride. I politely declined, but inquired about Friday. They said sure and off they sped. Typical Sunday.

 Sometimes if it gets hot enough I will eat cheeseburgers on a beach towel in my living room whilst watching Life On Mars. It's a good show. Looking out the window I see Cliff the double corned unicorn. Which would be a dicorn? Cliff is chasing the cat again. Running to the front door I yell, "Cliff! Get away from Sanford!" Mrs Grundy from across the road stares at me and drops her broom, sweeping done for the day I guess. Cliff puts down the cat and floats away on his cloud with rainbows firing out of it. Turning around I notice it is a little bit chilly. No pants . No shirt. No hat. Dammit. That's what Mrs Grundy is gaping at. I had forgot to wear a hat. Striding across the road she seems a little agitated. Letting out a tiny squeak, Mrs Grundy darts inside. I stop and wonder why she has ran away. Oh, it must be the cookies she is going to make me. "I will wait for you inside! Mmm. I can't wait." Then I remembered I did not have a hat on and scurried back inside. "No hat. You are quite the perv." I chuckled to myself.

 Tree's whipped by me like grey poles thrown into the ground by a giant called Earl. Earl had done this last week so fear not that he is doing it today. He usually throws ice cream tubs. As fun as that sounds they really hurt. It killed me twice last week and broke five of my legs. The good ones too. I usually don't run. It makes me cough and I am not very fast, but I was looking for something. Was it my memory? No. That is always there. Pulling up, the trees quickly gave way to short grass. Not that short though, probably twelve inches making the field one large verdant pond. Jogging to a halt I could see what I was looking for. Sitting on a log one hundred yards from me, chittering. Using some language that I did not understand and probably dead for hundreds of years. Standing there I wasn't sure how to approach it. Long have I chased this demon never reaching it until now. Fear struck rigamortis upon my legs. The dark black thing scared me, but it had taken something I needed. Twitching it turned it's black eyes upon me. I had to move now. I couldn't say it smiled, but it did. A fiery rictus if I had ever seen one. With that it was off, scurrying away on all fours. I lost it, screaming. "Squirrel! Give me back that sanity! It is the last of what I had!"

Friday, 5 October 2012

Things You Shouldn't Do

 I have lived awhile. Thirty six years as of this post. I have learned a little in that time, not a whole lot. Some of the lessons have been good, bad and interesting.. I reckon  I still have a lot to learn. That is the fun thing: about learning. With out it what do you have Nothing? You might as well stop living if you stop learning. Maybe I have the formula for immortality: Always learn. It could look like this: 100%=L(S+Lf)\D+I. The only thing is I could never reach immortality with the stuff I have pulled. I will keep it clean and legal.

 Let's see. As a child and as an adult I have never broken a bone(so far), but I  have tried. At the age of around three(it's a long time ago I know this because I can say decades ago), I fell out of my childhood homes' front window as the house was being built. Not bad, six foot drop. Can't remember much, must have landed on my head. At about twelve, my sister and I were heading out the driveway on a bike ride when our handle bars locked. We kept going until we hit the ditch on the other side of the road. I went flying off my bike into the ditch. My chest impacted a stump about two inches in diameter then dragged across my chest. it was a perfect circle with a tail. It looked like a comet. M sister went unscathed. Punk. The winters were fun too. Behind the house there were hilly hayfields. Trudging back there with my GT Snowracer(a conveyer of ambulance rides if I ever knew one) and the four puppies our dog Belle had recently spawned. The snow wasn't that deep and it was packy, so very nice for sledding..At the back of the property was a good short tobogganing hill and just behind it was another hill full of bare hardwood trees. A good slalom coarse. Or so I had thought. Halfway up the hill I thought this would be a good spot to test out my slaloming skills. Halfway! I figured I would speed down twenty feet then turn about seventy degrees to the right and sail straight through to the other hill then down it. No problem. Fixing my gloves and toque I gripped the steering wheel. The puppies had just crested the hill. Ah, an audience to marvel at my GTing prowess, great. Lifting my boots from the snow and placing them on the skiies, I nudged myself forward. Twenty feet came fast. Before I knew it I was supposed to turn. If anyone out there has ever ridden a GT they would know how responsive the turning is. You need twenty five feet to turn. Realizing I wasn't going to make it around the corner I bailed. Not quick enough, genius. My right shin struck a tree. I don't know where the GT went. I spun my seventy degrees to the right and slid down the rest of the hill on my back, head facing down. Clutching my shin I groaned and rolled onto my side. Then something hit me in the other leg. Mmmm. There;s the GT. Writhing on my side in agony the puppies took their opportunity. They must have planned this coordinated attack. Running up from my legs to my head they swarmed me. Ripping off my toque before I could figure out what they were doing and then they were gone. Not like I could chase them in my state. I didn't find that toque until the spring thaw.

Another thing you shouldn't do is thinking your inflamed appendix is just bowel problems. It puts you through a lot of pain. So much that you lay in bed all day in the fetal position moaning. Then your mom has to drive you into the hospital and you walk into the emergency room doubled over. The first shot of moraphine after the coroner see's you(nice, right?) does nothing. The nurse that tries to put your IV in you has just graduated from Doctor Frankenstein's school of nursing. She finally got it in after a couple of minutes and a pint of blood later. Six hours later I was in surgery and six days later I went home. Fun experience,  glad I only have one appendix.

Little things add up too. No matter what anyone tells you,  you can't fly. Knives are accedingly sharp. Uttering the words" I can make it" is ill advised. Gambling isn't smart either unless it's poker or football. Don't love anything when you're drunk and single, unless it's bed. One more time at Russian roulette. Stepping into a manger to escape a bull can have some dire consequences, especially when "stepping into the manger" consists of just moving in front of him. Never leave a person in a wheelchair facing the wall at a party or anywhere else for that matter. You shouldn't leave the blind person you are leading alone at a party, facing a corner or talking to a bathroom door. When walking through fields and beside beaver ponds always stay on the path behind your father. Venturing five feet out onto the ice in an arc makes for a cold March bath. Scaring up cattle and getting them to chase and encircle you is fun, but...

 Just a few things you shouldn't do. Leaving out the drunken mayhem. Oh that mayhem It's been a fun thirty six years. Hopefully I don't learn anymore things I shouldn't do. Is that a double negative?Does that mean I should do? Whatever. What could go wrong?



Tuesday, 2 October 2012


 The morning is brisk. Not cold enough  yet that you feel those little pin pricks on the end of your nose. No wind, but it still feels fresh, even if you live in the city. Breathing deeply, cool air slides easily through your nostrils and fills your lungs. After the first deep breath your mind clears. The early morning fog rolls out from your frontal lobe back to your occipital lobe then through the back of your head. The last spectral finger taking away last nights dreams of how you had to save the Toaster from the evil grasp of Sir John Deere belt buckle in the land of Shag. The air is crisp enough to make your eyes water and feel the littlest pang of cold. For some reason it sharpened your vision. Ahhhhh, early Autumn

Autumn is the steady decline into the holidays. Here is where you can use decline as a good thing. First Thanksgiving with all the great foods and celebrating the harvest, the decadence. Food spread across the table trimmed in bright solid fall colours. Eating until you feel full and almost sick, but you can still cram dessert in there. Halloween. Little buggers dressed for begging for candy, which Dad has to check to see if it is suitable for his children's consumption. I am not saying I am a hero, but there is a plaque around here somewhere that I had made up. Then Christmas. snow, toys, cheer. There is more to say, but this is Autumn"s send up.

 To me, Autumn is the best season. Driving through the country you see yellows and oranges brushes in great sweeping stokes across the hardwood copses, like soldiers with colorful plumes about their heads. The odd dissident evergreen or oak that hasn't turned yet still standing amongst them. All of them standing in defiance of their inevitable end. The reds standing out the most. Whether set in woods or standing alone set ablaze in one of the many tree lined roads. with branches outstretched across the road protecting any traveler who strides under these titans. Beautiful oranges roll into yellows on the hills that can be seen for miles. Up close the underbrush has died back enough for you to see the paths and leaves tumbling down. Hitting trunks on the way down spinning and floating until they gently come to rest on their fallen brothers and sisters.

 The mornings are cool, but only cool enough to get away with just wearing a sweater or a light jacket. Then as the sun approaches mid morning the world warms like a smile watching youngsters play and explore the world. Figuring out for the first time that that leaf has fallen form that giant tree for their amusement and they stare in wonder and anticipation of the reaming eight hundred leaves to fall. Probably at once. By noon you have shed the sweater and are walking with more vigor. Everyone around you is enjoying the warm weather too. One of the few remaining times it will be warm this year and enjoying it like the heartfelt embrace of a friend or loved one. The nights are cool again, but that is perfect. Underneath the sheets all cozy and comfortable. Protected from the slight chill that is in the house because you don't want to turn on the furnace. Holding onto that thought like the last tendril of grass on the side of a cliff. Cool enough to sleep easy, no sweating. Like you should sweat just lying there. You aren't doing anything, just sleeping! C'mon summer!

Since leaving the farm, Autumn has always reminded me of life up there. The ever rolling verdant ponds of hayfields(only in the early Autumn).. Driving through the old lumber and forestry roads with a mix or a beer in the coffee holder. Looking for any wildlife or just enjoying the still ponds and lakes with granite outcroppings that are miles from any major road or anyone. The only thing disturbing the mirror like ponds are beavers noses zippering up the lake for the oncoming winter. Driving through the harvested fields to check the cattle or to feed them. Bouncing off the gofer holes and through the wheel ruts, "Watch the drinks!" Tours were what we called them. Slow paced weekends of visiting family and friends. Listening and regaling in tales of adventure and misfortune that was always fun and had a joke in there somewhere. Autumn is the literal and metaphorical relaxing season. Where you sit back, reflect and let the World churn on and you are happy  to hitch a ride on it as it displays it's wonders and starts to reveal the next chapter.