you know what they say...
"One is not enough, two is too many, three is not enough..." Martinis, you know. Vodka martinis, of course. Shaken, definitely not stirred, with three olives. Or two olives flanking a ball of marinated mozzarella cheese. (purists are shuddering, I can tell). No matter. I drank the first one outside, under a sky the color of new steel, shapeless and flat. The back garden is showing signs of what might be an early autumn, the poplars are already shedding leaves, spotting the lawn and lining the edges of the walk where the wind has swept them. They are an odd decoration, but remind me of something in my far past and make me smile. The bottom growth of the moonflowers and morning glories that cover the trellis against the back wall of the house are starting to yellow and thin. The daylilies are starting to thin and look reed like, the hostas are droopy and tired. It could be the effects of the relentless heat of late, but I think it's fall sneaking in behind us just before the screen door of summer slams shut. Speaking of sneaking in, while I was in the kitchen mixing number two, I realized that I was mentally singing along with the shrill and practiced strain of the first cricket of the season. It was somewhere in the breakfast nook, hiding out of reach of Tiger the Cat, somewhere small and safe, but big enough to fiddle it's tune. A cricket in the house is good luck, they say. If so, I will take it, as it seems to be metering itself out in meager issue these days. But, vodka is not as scarce as luck right now, so while number three awaits in the wings, I will take my leave.
I bid thee fair 'eve.

pearls before swine...