The wind

Gusts of wind are ripping the last lilac leaves off their branches, and spats of rain try to make sure those on the ground stay put. The roar of the rapids reaches me in waves through the window panes, and I can also hear the trees groan in protest for being shaken so. Finches, chickadees and nuthatches frantically rush to hide as much sunflower seeds from the feeder as possible, getting ready for the bitter cold that is sure to come, not counting on me to keep it full when they will need it the most.

This morning, I shook the carpets outside just in time, for if I had waited, we would have gotten wet. Satisfied to know that I vacuumed most of the main floor, I settle down for an afternoon of crossword puzzles, waiting for more clement weather to venture outside.