Woke to the sound of rain this morning. It’s still coming down, in a slow, measured pace. And it’s a cold rain, which makes little difference to the ground or the bluebonnets in the back pasture, and they are profuse.

Bought a book yesterday. It’s sure to keep me up nights. The Anatomy of a Paleozoic Basin: The Permian Basin, USA. I mean, we’re talking about a story that happens over the course of 540 million years.

My new schedule seems to be agreeing with me. Weekends are free of alarm clocks and the pressure of writing. Weekdays still find me at the keyboard before daylight, but I’m sleeping later and better so that’s a win.

It’s in the 30s. I know some of my readers will think, oh to be there, but to be fair, it’s still cold. So, it’s sort of a shared experience. Except no snow.

Home again. Home again. I love being on the road. I love being home. There is nothing quite like your own bed. But then again, there is nothing like sleeping on a trailer’s dining room table that folds into a bed, especially if you have a self-inflating mattress, which I do.

When I first started hiking, I was nervous. I felt as thought I’d kept myself active over the course of my life, but I had my doubts when it came to walking up and down mountains.

Changed our pace yesterday. We went underground. Carlsbad Caverns are right down the road. So, off we went.

Went for a walk to the far reaches of McKittrick Canyon yesterday in Guadalupe Mountains state park. The day was cool, the breezes constant and the beauty nearly overwhelming.

Watched the blood moon of a full lunar eclipse this morning. It was hanging in the clear skies over the Guadalupe Mountains. I tell you; I have fallen well and truly in love with West Texas.

Went to the hills just south of town to watch the sun go down yesterday. There were big clouds all around. I thought they might make for a nice show. They did.

The wind blew, the lightning flashed, and it rained. One tenth of an inch. A tiny bit anticlimactic. Now the wind is blowing like it has something to celebrate.

The wind is still howling this morning. Knocking the trees around and just generally being a nuisance. There’s a good chance it will rain today. But I’ve been there before. And when you’re in a time of drought, it can be a cruel hoax.

The south wind blew yesterday. Shook the trees. Chased leaves across the yard. Ran it’s fingers through my hair. It’s still at it this morning. A mass of air rushing across the land in a big hurry.

It’s raining, but we’re not setting any records. It’s cold too. A front has arrived. It will be chill all week. About time. It’s fall. October. Let’s do this. I have my long sleeve shirts at the ready.

Yesterday I walked up a hill in daylight and down again in the dark. Two miles in and two miles out. I wanted to see a sunset from the top of the hill overlooking the Pedernales river valley and the Hill Country out west.

I like Aspens, Magpies, and Steller’s Jays. The tree and two birds are things I’d never seen before I went to Colorado. Now that I’ve seen them, I want to see them again.

I remember John Denver singing about a Rocky Mountain high, and never really thought much about it. Then I spent last week in the Rocky Mountains and boy do I get it.

Walked along the banks of a river yesterday, down into the canyon it’s been cutting for millions of years. The canyon was impressive.

Durn. Summer’s back. Went outside this morning. It was hot. I hesitate to disparage summer. But enough is enough. This is late September. Shouldn’t summer be off somewhere else?

I was walking through the park next door on a quiet evening walk last week, and as I did one persimmon hit the ground and rolled out onto the trail right in front of me.