rain is falling very softly on the window. it's a light bubbling, crackly sound. i'm cleaning up my papers and piling all the europe ephemera in preparation to file it away in the box under my knitting bag. the house feels very cozy and right tonight, with all of us wandering back and forth on our business, intersecting and moving apart. a conversation with ryn online felt more normal than any i can bring to recent memory. we are all mentally battening down for winter. my first thought when i heard the ticking of the rain on the window was that it was sleet. i'm itching to knit again: fingerless gloves and long thick scarves and socks for padding around the house in. the snake bobs his head. even in his artificial environment, the heating pad on for weeks now, i'm sure he notices a dryness in the air.
i want there to be snow, but i don't want it here. every change of season brings new reasons to wish i was back upstate. kevin from work tells me the trees are in full autumn blast up at bard. i miss it. i miss the way the leaves smell wet and plastered to the pavement.