Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang

We're not quite there yet; we're just beginning the glorious last hurrah, but it's in the wind. The days get short, the urge to hibernate under a pile of feather duvets gets large, and we find out what kind of year it's been for apples. Damn good, fortunately, so now my fridge is full of Jonagolds and Honeycrisps and some Asian apple-pears, as well as carrots and sorrel. Next week I'll get a double batch of sorrel and take it down to Il Padre, Soup Wizard sans peur et sans reproche, so that he can turn it into schavelni' sup, a soup that looks like pond weed and so good that you just don't care. Fall time is food time.

I took advantage of the glorious weather to get outside a lot, at least once the effects of a late Friday night drinking demon rum with the visiting Expat and her husband KD had worn off. Apparently they don't have pirate-themed bars in Deutschland, which I think we can agree is a terrible loss, and while KD was kind enough to serve as designated, the Expat and I went through the menu of silly cocktails with a vengeance. 13 Feet Under? Of course! A 666? Mais non! A Davy Jones Locker? What could possibly go wrong?

All of that being drunk said, I did get up in time to join Gee-Clef for a day at the Fest. He loaned me his enormous black Jedi cloak, because circulatory system have I none and it was chilly, and we strolled about to see shows by the slinky Mediaeval Baebes, Shakespeare's Skum, and the Rogues, a roughly Scottish group who still featured "the best bellydancer in Dundalk." Who was frankly wonderful: not only was she a lovely dancer, she skipped the sultry vamp look in favor of the smile of someone who is actually enjoying herself. The fact that small girl-moppets belonging to the band were engaged in pitched nerf-sword battles in front of the stage did not detract in the slightest. Between and sometimes during the shows, we played Treasure Hunt, spotting examples of the various Fest genuses and arguing about whether strictly Linnaean-style rules could possibly be applied in such a sartorial free-for-all, because we are tremendous geeks in our own right. Mostly it was an excuse to murmur, "Oh, hey," at the more astonishing costumes.

Lacking a horse of my own, I can't post photos of a perfect autumn ride, but perfect fall weather is good even when you're on your own feets.


You don't even need to Photoshop any pixels to improve on it.