Last night on a visit with my sister and my best friend, we got our last taste of summer on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. Many of the stands were closed, but there were still people strolling and enjoying the last gasp of the season.
To me this shot captures the boardwalk perfectly, in all its honky-tonk glory. So as summer's heat gives way to autumn's chill, the boardwalk stands will close.
But there's always next summer, and that's the beauty of the Jersey Shore.
Even at my front door, where some enterprising robin has decided to build her nest at the top of my (fake) forsythia wreath:
My niece Eva stood on tip-toe with her phone to snap this lovely pic. (That blue could only occur in nature. Or perhaps on a bag from Tiffany.)
Hoping that moms and mom-figures everywhere are having a perfect day today!
October is my favorite month of the year (followed closely by June, July, and August) and I can't let it slip away without celebrating its joys. What do you love about this glorious, golden month?
1. Pumpkins--carved or whole, orange or white and lit with a candle. On the front porch, or in muffins, pies, bread, or cake. But not the ones chewed by squirrels.
2. Color. Color. Color.
4. Sweaters and scarves.
5. The harvest moon.
6. Sleeping with the windows cracked.
7. And speaking of sleeping, flannel PJs.
8. Walks in the woods.
9. The start of winter cooking: soups, stews, and slow-cooked roasts.
10. Halloween, when we're kids again. And when a few of us make ourselves sick on candy corn.
In last week's NY Times Magazine, cicadas landed on the so-called "Meh" list. "Meh" as in, no longer trending, and we don't really care anymore.
Easy for you to say, you black-clad hipster toiling away in a treeless Manhattan. Sure, you can be as "meh" as you want about it. You don't have to look down into their beady little red eyes.They're not stuck on your purse and riding with you to work. They're not dive-bombing your head when you try to take your walk.
You don't open your dresser drawer at 6:30 in the morning and find THIS:
When they first hit, I was pretty sanguine about it. Bugs don't really bother me (unless they sting) and I was fascinated by their weird, otherworldly singing, which sounded like something from a fifties sci-fi film.I got used to them in my trees, on my deck and all over my car tires.
But I draw the line at my fine washables. After making this gruesome discovery, I called out to my husband with a request I can safely say he'd never heard before: Honey, can you come get the cicada out of my underwear drawer?
Of course, it could have been worse. At least I saw it before I got dressed. . .
.
Okay, it's pretty. Winter wonderland and all that. And it's sort of sweet to watch my elderly terrier tap into her inner puppy when she goes outside. (See below) 
But I. Have. Had. It. I want sunshine. Daffodils. And some Easter bunnies, please. And make it snappy, will ya?
♥ ♥ ♥
To those of us of a certain age, this box might be a familiar sight: 
This box of ornaments, which sold for $1.59 back in the day, is one of my most prized possessions. In the 1960s, my grandfather owned a hardware store in which he also sold lots of odds and ends--toys, sewing notions, and Christmas decorations. A favorite Saturday jaunt was to go to "Pepa's store" for a toy and a visit. When he sold it, we bought a few of these Shiny Brite boxes, and my mom passed them down to me. I put them on my tree every year, as reminders of my beloved grandparents and long ago Christmas Eves as their house.
While I hang the ornaments, I either listen to or sing (badly and off-key) "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," because it so reminds me of them. They have been gone for decades, but remain a comforting presence, particularly at this time of year.
And so, as you hang your shining stars upon the highest bough (or light your menorah) may you be surrounded by those you love, whether in body or spirit. Happy holidays and all the best this New Year.
♥ ♥ ♥
He's all arms and legs, gangly as a teenage boy right after a growth spurt. He's got a scratchy voice that trembles and he stammers, particularly around women. He's cute, for sure--but he's no Cary Grant. But I find him sexy as hell. In two movies in particular, both of which are holiday films. The Shop Around the Corner is a charming little classic about department store co-workers who are each other's secret pen pals, but don't know it. And of course they hate each other. (It's the film on which that other charmer, You've Got Mail, is based.)
In the days long before email and texts, they write each other rather passionate little missives like the one below. (Not sure how it got past the Hayes Code.) Oh, my Dear Friend, my heart was trembling as I walked into the post office, and there you were, lying in Box 237. I took you out of your envelope and read you, read you right there. Whoa. But if you want real sex appeal, check out the telephone scene with Donna Reed in It's a Wonderful Life. Poor George Bailey, determined to get out of Bedford Falls, is stopped in his tracks when his childhood friend Mary, played by Donna Reed, is suddenly all grown up.
Once he gets close to the luminous Reed, he's a goner. And so am I. There's lots of sighing and panting, and a kiss that knocks your socks off. (At least mine, anyway.) 
Merry Christmas, Jimmy. You were one wonderful guy.
♥ ♥ ♥
I'm standing in a corner of my local library--where it's warm, safe, and dry--to do a quick post. Below are some pics of my neighborhood, where we actually count ourselves lucky, considering the devastation at my beloved shore. We're without power, but we're unharmed. For that I am grateful. Please keep in your prayers those who were not so lucky, and if you are able, consider helping via the Red Cross. Bless you all!
What John Keats called the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” happens to be my favorite of the year. Here are only a few reasons why: ~Pumpkin muffins ~Crisp mornings and chilly nights ~The first fire in the fireplace ~Halloween decorations ~Visits to the farmers’ market ~Apples in season; apples in pies; apples in my lunchbox ~Comfort food time—break out the soups, stews, and chilis ~Flannel PJs ~Candy corn ~The last blaze of color before the snow
♥ ♥ ♥
The title of this post does not refer to the Christmas song, but to a familiar ad campaign in which parents are merrily buying their children school supplies, delighted that another endless summer is coming to an end. This summer I am facing the big boy version of that experience as we ready our two younger sons to go to college. Here is Son #2's pile of stuff:
Son #2 is the old pro. This is his third trip back to Boston, and he is more representative of the Stuff it All in a Bag School of Packing. Here are Son #3's accoutrements:
Son #3 was born with one foot out the door, so it's no surprise that he's been packed for days now. But that doesn't make it any easier to say good-bye to two of them. Here is what I tell myself: No morning lunches to pack. No more waiting up on those nights we want to sleep. (And no more waiting them out on those nights we don't.) Weekends away. Romantic dinners for two. A much smaller shopping bill. Ditto electricity and credit card. The second car back in the driveway. A house for grown-ups, at last. It's all about roots and wings, I tell myself. And then I whisper a prayer: may the roots hold. And may the wings bring them back soon.
