a real September day

 A true September day - the stillness of it. I can hear insects repeating themselves in the way they do, but otherwise, it's quiet. No breeze, bright sun. It's beginning to feel like fall. There were asters growing inside the hydrangea and I left them too long; now, instead of rooting them out, all I could do was cut, but at least I was outside for a while.

The online book group is going to discuss H.G. Wells' The First Men in the Moon, and a strange story it is. At this early stage, it seems like a cautionary tale: don't let an over-excited person suck you into their schemes. But I'll reserve judgment in case it takes a turn in another direction.

I made the honey spice cake today for my Jewish friend, and was looking for a container to put the cut-up pieces in, when I remembered these -

Debra gave me a set of six of these foil pans with the beautiful hare design.

Speaking of haired creatures, there's someone who always wants to run in and watch me clean the bathroom sink, tail either hanging over the edge or curled neatly around her.

I know I've mentioned it before. What she has started doing is to chew on any tissues which stick out of the box. That means stuffing it all back inside after pulling one out. What next?