A day passed through here that made all of the neighborhood cats take a long and luxurious nap in these extended hours of sunshine. Another one follows along right behind, and I understand that it is then all over. This October run of sun is most memorable. The month almost always does this. I feel more warmth on my face this time of year than I do in the middle of the summer. I could look back to my journal for several years now and see the pattern. There was no movement in the air yesterday, not even leaves twirling downward from their limbs. All the sky was still. The day before I had watched a couple of red-tailed hawks circling deep in the blue in the afternoon before the sun fell behind the hills. Yesterday the hawks took roost on the treetops. I watched one of them parked above on the tallest tree across the road in the glen.
Tonight an acquaintance of mine, a building contractor, is coming over to discuss the possibility of building a small kitchen onto the front of this little cottage on the side of our house where I have been doing my writing and thinking for several months. I already anticipate the disruption in my thinking. It seems that the only place I have ever found around my house that I can sit pretty much undisturbed for hours at a time also happens to be the best place to build this little kitchen that we have in mind. I am trying to figure out where I can put my computer, some books, and myself, when and if all of the hammering should soon begin. I know from the last round of remodeling that there is no easy place to run and hide. The people who have come and helped us remodel our house have gone out of their way to make it possible for us to remain living in the house while parts of it have been literally ripped to pieces and put back together renewed.
I have another computer set up that I can switch over to while this one is down, so I suppose that is where I shall wind up for a couple of months. It is in the house, where my flow of ideas often becomes retarded by the daily household noises that might come from television, or pots and pans clanging in the kitchen at dinner hour, or the thumping of bare feet traipsing back and forth from room to room. All these little noises that mean nothing to me when I am not writing, suddenly seem to be magnified tenfold the moment that I lay my fingers on the keyboard, or rather, most recently, strap on my dictation microphone headset and begin talking to the computer screen.
If the warmth of October days should hold and perhaps wander on in to November, I may be able to do some writing just sitting outside in the wonderful sunshine. I know a couple of places, picnic tables in public parks that are not too far from here, where I could bring my tiny notebook PC, and talk to it in quiet.