I need to catch up on some sleep before I write a more comprehensive post ... last night was a late night at the last ever Yankees game in old Yankee Stadium. Here is a shot from the Yankee Clipper ferry of the Manhattan skyline. I aimed high with my wide angle lens to get a slightly skewed view. (Empire State Building is dead center.)

This is the time of year that’s sort of in limbo. Summer is over but Autumn isn’t quite here yet. The leaves on the trees are dull looking but still a washed-out green, not yet ready to put on their vibrant show. The undergrowth in the woods has died back and we are now able to see into the woods further than we could a month ago. After our heat wave of last weekend (compliments of Ike) we are now having cool nights in the 40s and lovely days in the 60s. Perfection! So why does part of me want Autumn to come on and get on with it, make the trees change and etc? Why can’t I be satisfied to just enjoy this wonderful fall weather?

The sun is lower in the sky and the quality of the light is much softer. Here it shines through the leaded glass of our front door, creating a wonderful prism on the wall.

The oaks are dropping their acorns and what doesn’t fall to the ground naturally is being helped along by squirrels in the tree tops. Our recently delivered two cords of firewood is finally all stacked and waiting. I look forward to our first fire in the fireplace of the year.

Most things are done blooming now and my garden beds are looking pretty sad and blah. I do, however, have some of this pretty stuff blooming. I don’t know what it is, do you? I think I remember it showing up about this time last year too.

The pool was closed for the season yesterday. We’ll still continue to go down and sit in the cabana but it won’t be the same without being able to look into its blue depths. We really didn’t get much use out of it this year. August was pretty much a washout because the temperatures were unseasonably cool. We’ve had some hot weather this month but too late to bring the pool temps back up to a swimmable level. We really are considering a heater for next year. But they are so darned expensive, both to put in and run.

We have a busy weekend planned. Today we will step back in time and join in the revelry at the New York Renaissance Faire for their last weekend of the season. Rick will don his lace-up leather boots, billowy white shirt and vest, and I will once again put on my bodice and leave my bra behind.

Tomorrow we have tickets to the last ever Yankees game in Yankee Stadium. Should be fun!

Hope your weekend is a good one!

I know, I know. I am failing miserably in my attempt to keep up with the ABC-Along. No imagination lately I guess. So, here goes “O” is for Overtaken.

It started out mildly enough last year with a pretty morning glory vine appearing out of nowhere and covering the lattice work we had just put up to hide Johnny and other outdoor tools. I enjoyed its pretty blooms that start out pinkish-purple when closed, and upon opening turn a periwinkle blue in the morning light. It was a good thing. Or at least I thought so then.

This year that insipid little vine has turned into a clutching, tenacious monster.

I should have known we were in trouble when the lattice work below the deck wasn’t enough for it. It tentatively poked its sinewy, viny fingers up through the boards of the deck.

Then it latched on to the railing and crept its way up and up.

Thwarted in its attempt to go further upwards, it branched out sideways and attached itself to my petunias, like some alien life form searching for blood. I’ll get you my pretty ...

I put and end to that stranglehold pretty quickly.

It also has wound itself around our weather station, which we need to take care of before the anemometer can’t measure the wind speed anymore, but we need a to get the ladder out.

It even worked its way into being a support for this spider’s web.

Here it is in its full summer glory (so to speak).

See how its greedy little arms reach out in every direction?

It’s creepy the way that is keeps making its way further and further. Soon I expect it to reach the second floor of our house, the vine slipping under the bathroom window, creeping along the floor until it reaches our bed, wrapping itself around my neck ... no! whew. So much for not having an active imagination lately.

But it does look rather innocuous, doesn’t it? I think it’s just waiting for its chance.

Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile might remember the story in our local newspaper about the cow who escaped and was running loose in the woods surrounding West Milford. I kept looking for more updates in the paper but never saw anything.

That is until Rick was reading an article in the paper a few weeks back about some things in the old town records of 1834. Buried in this article after references to entries in the ledgers of cows going astray, was news about our runaway cow. Here is what it said:

“Calling to mind that everything old is new again, a 400-pound cow went AWOL after a western event at the west Milford Equestrian Center in May of 2007. Mounted volunteers combed the woods of the township in search of the missing cow and the saga was duly noted in the local press.

According to the Equestrian Center’s owner, Ella Mae Battipaglia, the bovine actually wandered back on it its own in August. Once trapped in a pen, and with some coaxing , the cow was eventually backed into a trailer and taken away.

It is believed that the heifer spent its time in the woods between Gould and Van Orden roads for those three months. It gained about 300 pounds on its freedom walk, however, which then begs the question: Do greens really belong on a diet plate?”

So, a happy ending for our runaway cow.

Salad anyone??

With Rick away on business for the next week, I find myself watching movies that I queued up on purpose with his absence in mind.

I was watching an old B&W 1947 movie tonight and was struck by some differences that just stood out to me.

1) Everyone was in a suit (even women) to attend a picnic. Cary Grant had holes in his dress trousers by the end of the sack race. Silly man.

2) Men wore their trousers high waisted where their bellies protruded underneath their belts and sometimes made them look hollow backed. Today you would never see a man with the waist band of his trousers up around his mid-section. How fuddy-duddy-ish. Like Fred Mertz on I Love Lucy. Oh no, today if you have a big belly, the waist band goes underneath all that so as to make the trouser size smaller. Why haven’t women thought of that trick?

Clothing seemed so structured. I can’t imagine walking around strapped into a corset and suit from morning till night. No jeans, no sweatshirts. Please! I like to let it all hang out once I come home. Okay, so I never said I was June Cleaver. Not me. Well, maybe a bodice would be nice being the Renaissance girl that I am ...

From 1947 and B&W, I went to 1979 and ALIEN. It looks dated to my eyes of today with their “Mother” computer spewing out binary code. How archaic does that look? But, that’s all we knew back then; bits and bytes. God Sigourney Weaver looked so young ... and they called their fellow crew member a “robot” instead of the android that he was. Geez.

Other observations include the fact that our pool is DONE. Its temperature has bottomed out. No swimming; no way. I “saved” a tiny frog the other day, but I’m not entirely certain he was very appreciative of my saviour expertise. I just didn’t want him in the pool and not able to get out on his own. Frogs and moles “swimming” belly-up are not my favorite thing to find in the pool. Next week it will be closed for the season, which is sad considering how little we used it this year. Not a good pool year. Bummer.

The trees are starting to change. Squirrels are busily knocking acorns down from high atop the oak branches. Those trees that aren’t physically showing color have lost their fill for the year, looking pallid and washed out.

Tonight I think the sun set in what seemed like one half hour earlier than yesterday. I know that’s not possible, but it seemed so to me.

The seasons and times; they are a-changin’.