During my lunchtime walk, I saw more squirrels than cars.
The bushy-tailed critters scampered from yard to yard, tree to tree, a flurry of motion.
Did they know it was the last 70 degree day of the year? The last Monday before the end of Daylight Savings Time?
The farmers knew. Soothing hums of diesel and the rhythmic chunk-a-chunk-a-chunk came from the fields around our farm.
In several fields combines munched through soybeans, and in our front field, two farmers baled hay -- green, loose bales that'll smell like summer all winter long.
The husband hurried to the woods to cut wood for winters to come.
I, tired of cleaning out the garden, turned to cleaning out horse stalls and paddock, clearing manure so that doors will open easily when the ground freezes and heaves.
When sunlight faded, my husband and I came indoors.
But the combines didn't take our cue. Their headlights came on and they rumbled through the fields into the night, gobbling up beans before the rains came.
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Indeed, it's quite OK to be in mourning for the end of October. In fact you might say that it's necessity. It's all downhill until December when you can say "we're closer to spring than we were in September!"
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