The nights are getting cooler, so cool that I think it’s driven the hummers South. I haven’t seen The Boss Lady on her perch by the feeder in a couple of days. Usually they stay a bit later. Wonder if they know something I don’t? But a few of the butterflies are still milking the warm days and the zinnias for all they are worth. I can’t seem to catch this one with it’s wings open, but I’ll keep trying. And note to myself for next year…zinnias on every patch of dirt I see. Never have I gotten more bang for my flower buck.

The friend I mentioned in the previous post and I used to get together and critique each other’s work.He used to look over my new pieces and make comments like, “Sickening.”, which meant he thought it was good, “Bitch, I hate you.”, which meant he thought it was terrific. “I’m not feeling it.”, which meant I still had work to do, and my personal favorite, “Oooh! Now I am LIVING for her!”

Right now, I am kind of living for her.

One of my old running buddies spent the weekend with us. He is a photographer in New York, if you read fashion magazines (well, does anybody actually read them?) you have seen his work. He mostly shoots people who need only use one name, and wouldn’t be caught dead unless they were covered head to foot in designer labels. He came down to decompress after Fashion Week and wait for his new apartment to be ready.

We sat on the patio around the fireplace, drank wine and watched the butterflies go to bed and the bats get up, and listened to his tales of life among the beautiful and obsessed in the fashion capitol of the world. For every day he spends with glamorous people with flawless bone structure who pout at a camera for a living, he…well, he spends a day with glamorous people who pout for a living. It made me realize how very lucky I am to sit here in my studio, looking out the window at trees and flowers instead of bricks and glass, and hearing birds sing instead of traffic, letting my dogs out to chase squirrels instead of following them down a busy sidewalk with a plastic bag.

I found a couple of small ways to return some of that good fortune to the universe, one of them being DonorsChoose.org, which allows you to contribute to a project for a public school teacher. Most of the amounts are heartbreakingly small, but out of reach for low income students, and we all know what teachers get paid. So look around you, and if you are feeling fortunate, go check out the projects, make a donation and spread the word.

What can I do? It’s like they’re posing for me.

And I am sitting quietly with a camera.

The moon looked especially creepy and witchy through the trees.

And you know how I love me some creepy and witchy.

Isn’t there a scene in the opening of Scooby-Doo that looks like this?

Now this one feels finished.

I have been working away on a very rewarding project. When it’s ready to unveil I will show it to you all. In the meantime, I have at last succeeded in planting a butterfly garden. My garden is filled with fluttery goodness.

“Fears have emerged that the collider could produce black holes that could suck up anything around them — including the whole Earth. Such fears prompted legal actions in the U.S. and Europe to halt the operation of the Large Hadron Collider, alleging safety concerns regarding black holes and other phenomena that could theoretically emerge.” (Full Story)

This led to a discussion of exactly what you might have time to do or say if a black hole did open up. The husband turns to me and says, “I’d just like to say, if there is a black hole that sucks us all in, I’ve had a really good time.”

Ditto, baby. Ditto.