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Phenology Journal

Never trust a maple

Hey man, take a look out the window and see what’s happening
Hey man, it’s raining
It’s raining outside man
Aw, don’t worry about that
Everything’s going to be everything
We’ll get into something real nice you know
Sit back and groove on a rainy day
Yeah, yeah I see what you mean brother, lay back and groove

— Jimi Hendrix, “Rainy Day, Dream Away”

I haven’t seen a hummingbird in several days now.

Today dawned humid, warmer, low 60s, light rain. Sat on the deck with a cup of coffee and listened, but no barred owls. No loop hike with the dog. Just writing. Which is nice for a change.

Sitting in the Forest Room watching golden maple leaves flutter down in a steady rain, gently brushing the skylights, sliding past oak leaves, fluttering toward the leaf litter. Things grew gold fast, though green still dominates. It’s always the traitorous maples, first to turn tail and run toward winter.

View from the Forest Room (conveniently editing out the mess and chaos that is Sydney the Angry Cockatoo)

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