Possible Frost.

All day long it seemed warmer than the fancies said it would be, and all evening, sporting my sweet damn thirdhand Dickies jacket, I wondered if we'd even get close to the thirties we'd been promised, and then all the way home from the puppet show, windows cracked if not down, I thought, Frost, hell.

But it's good and crisp out there now as we ride toward midnight. Something happened right around ten o'clock. That's going to be a right cold morning out there in the de-ceilinged, de-insulated shed. Time to get things lined up out there, I imagine. Time to pull everything else out so that things can start going back in.

Things are a little akimbo here at 709. We could perhaps stand for a wee bit of straightening. Planning. Getting ready for the winter. Hunkering down, is I think what some folks might say.

The pansies are starting to perk up out front—starting to look like the weather is more their weather. Dark or no, it's starting to look more like mine, too.