I've been at my desk since breakfast, puttering away at a column for the Sunday paper. It's been rather hard going, which I choose to blame on the yet-to-materialize predicted rain. First the National Weather Service said an 80 percent chance of showers. They later dropped to 70 percent, and then to 50 percent. Now they've revised back up to 60 percent.
It's not that I particularly want rain. It's that no rain has meant a day which began as sunny, and though it has since gradually turned cloudy, is still a 68˚F day which looks constantly enticing through my deskside window. I want to chuck this writing task, go outside, and play…or at least kick around the new-fallen leaves, watch the river slip softly along, and breathe deep of the autumn-scented air.
That's what I want to do—that and take my fine old dog for a walk. Unfortunately, Moon is not supposed to be doing much walking other than whatever brief ambles necessary to manage her business, while I'm on deadline and must have my piece in this evening.
Any other day, I'd already be done with my work. It seldom takes me more than a couple of hours to write my column. Then, I give it an hour's rest—eat a snack, walk the dog, make a few casts in the Cottage Pool for smallmouth—before returning for a fresh read and edit and afterwards zapping the finished piece off. On a typical day I'd have accomplished that hours ago. Especially if it had rained.
But, as I said, I've been seriously distracted…by gray squirrels scrabbling amongst the leaves, chipmunks dashing along flowerbed rocks, birds at the feeders, and the long, sparkling sweep of moving river I only have to look up to see beyond my deskside window. Who knows when I'll finish!
P.S. I made the sparrow and downy shots earlier, which shows how long I've been suffering…