It is October, and 66 degrees at dusk. After a day of planting dozens of more bulbs, my reward is a glass of Roseburg, Oregon, Albarino while reclining on a chaise on the western facing porch, to watch the sun drop behind the hills. This is one of my most favorite times of year, because the trees turn black as the sun leaves the sky. That black silhouette I have tried, oh so often, to capture in pen and ink. While here, a few thoughts fleet past. There is never an airplane in the sky. But never. That is such a unique occurrence, I am dumbstruck at the realization. A cloud that looked like Dumbo – a small elephant, is hanging above the trees. But…there is no one to turn share the thought. It is such moments a partner, or at least a regular on the scene, would be lovely. Guess that is not to be. At the Fair the other day I actually noticed someone giving me the once over… but knocking on my door or blocking my car in traffic…But I digress, back to the waning sun. A dog barks, a car drives by slowly, they wave, I wave, I think about the wonders of putting bulbs in the ground… oh yes, accompanied by 12 gallons of self-made compost. This is a first for me. And the dark loam is photo worthy. I am excited that everyone who stays here, gets with the program. The compost bin appeared to be getting tall, and then I flipped it on its side and harvested the rich earth. How rewarding to see that all those veggie scraps and food scrapes have returned to rich earth. Today they were returned to the earth in the furtherance of new growth. The sky is now dotted with gray clouds, the top of the hill is lined with finely etched black trees and a soft winding is blowing the flames of the candles that are not only decorative but enlisted to keep the mosquitos away. At the later job they are failing miserably.