it's_september raze and the water vapour dancing in the air is moving away from me one fraught step at a time i am turning paper and the ink that tattoos its skinny body into synaptic plasticity willing those marks to become my own waiting for the leaves to fall and fill the world with aureate life 210901 ... unhinged my unemployment insurance is ending this week. i have no hope or ideas for the future but i can't keep on the same path from before. i need to write robert a rent check. the dark comes sooner now. winter is coming. 210901 ... past august's last storm brought lightning and hail, with tornado watches and warnings around. we decided to cut and run, packing the canoe while the sky was still cloudless, and getting the kids in the boat while they asked why we were leaving on a warm, beautiful day. the storm struck just after we loaded the van with gear and children, strapping the boat to the roof. the clouds materialized from beyond the forest, and the lake began to vibrate violently as the hail rattled the waters. we were gratefully protected by body of the vehicle. summer held fast as we left our last vacation early. it's violent end bringing a precipitous drop in temperature and fog rising from the twisting highways as we drove north and east. now it's september and autumn is making itself know. the temperature plunged to single digits overnight, and we're happy to have more than the thin fabric of our tent for insulation. but. i love this month, of off centred new beginnings, and the crisp promise of the air. it's september, and i love it. 220901 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Yes, this city also continued its tradition of dropping the temperature in honour of the first of September (it'll get warm again tomorrow). Meeting with a prof online. Long walk with the dog. Two tutoring classes scheduled for tomorrow. 220901 ... insouciant September begins my period of melancholy as the days get clearly shorter. October solidifies it as I try to settle in to winter and darkness at 4:30pm. It's comforting, in a way, that the sun sets earlier so that I don't feel like I should be active until 9pm, but at the same time I usually resent having to be active in the darkness at 5pm. 220902 ... ovenbird And the garden is rumbling with bumblebees. Female workers, their bodies running out of time, gather the last ochre of summer, trying to feed the future. Do they know that only the queens will survive the winter? Do they feel their wings warping, their weight dragging, the nectar calling right up to the moment of their deaths? Can they hear their sisters humming, not in lament but in celebration? Because this is the moment that makes the hive immortal. This is how the_circle_closes. 250908 what's it to you? who go blather from