FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!

My friends, today is one of my VERY favorite days of the year...the first day of Fall. Autumn Equinox. The day when I think, "YES! I have survived yet another summer in the South! GO me!" Of course I realize that the threat of hot days still exists. I remember my first Autumn in Texas. I went to a UT football game, and not only did I wear shorts, but I came home with a sunburn. I still feel that was very wrong... it simply should not have happened. In my New England memories, football games at the end of October mean thick socks, hot chocolate and a warm
sweater. Not sunblock. Anyway, it is slightly cooler here in Florence, MS than Austin, TX. I won't be donning any woolens till much later in the year, but I may get a chance in the next few weeks to wear my favorite faded blue jeans with my sandals. My feet won't be cold and my legs won't be hot. It's great. I'll be able to drink my morning coffee on the back porch without sweating. And, my children will be bringing me armloads of these very cool looking flowers that grow all over my lawn at the beginning of each fall. They're Spider lillies. I don't know what their scientific name is. Maybe Lillyus Spiderosa. In any case, before I moved here I had never seen them. Now I wait for them every September.


And today, on the first day of Fall, I saw and picked my first Spider Lily. Happy days are here again!

September by Helen Hunt Jackson

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orhcards
With fruit are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
And dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterfiles.

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer.

My fellow bloggers...

Knowing that today will be chock full of outdoor activites since the temperature is below 85 degrees, I'm assuming I won't have much time for blogging. I did, however, take some time this morning to stop by my girlfriend Elysa's most awesome blogspot. Check it out, she's got some great stuff up. She's a true blog artist, a homeschool mom and she has 7 (that's SEVEN, y'all!) children. Rock on, Elsya!

Not Measels

My son Sam has a virus that isn't measels. He had a fever that came and went, and then he woke up covered with red spots. Unlike my other children he has not had his measels immunization. Abigail also has had a fever and appears to be getting these "measel-like" spots. She is not due to get her immunization until next month. Apparently, this virus that is not measels is contagious, but only to other children who haven't been immunized. My children who have had the measels immunization have not gotten this virus.

I'm also to keep my children with "not measels" home, lest they spread it to other non-immunized children. But it's "not the measels".

The Difference

If anyone wants to know the difference between boys and girls, look here. This is what happend when I told my children to go play outside. Apparently, the boys heard something entirely different than the girl.

Leisure by William H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep and cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass
When squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Same Song, Second Verse

Well, here I am again, explaining my blogger slackerism. Once again, I've been caught up in a book series. This month, it's Lynn Austin who's got me hooked. She's a Christian who writes historical fiction, and I'm caught up in the Refiner's Fire series. In fact, as I write this article I'm on the phone with my wonderful husband, asking him to run to the library before it closes to get the next book in the series. I feel somewhat like an addict, and maybe I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I am rather desperate and at times pitiful. I have been known to stay up reading until my eyes hurt, only to deeply regret it a few hours later when I have to pry myself out of bed. My husband tries to warn me (as he hands me a new Dean Koontz novel) that I'll hate myself in the morning, that I'll be miserable as I trudge along bleary eyed and cranky. Who is he kidding? He may as well change his name from "Wyatt" to "Enabler." Not that I'm complaining, I know he's right. I know I need to change my ways. But then, it's not in the knowing, is it?