Up at five A.M. Coffee on the porch in the dark. It was not really dark. The horizon was lightening in the East, the Moon was so bright that shadows were being cast. I could actually see my breath. Fall has arrived overnight. The air is crisp and clear, there are signs of Halloween in the stores. Something else is happening.
My brain is running in high gear. Memories from long ago and recent times are flooding my thoughts. Seemingly insoluble problems have suddenly been resolved. I look forward to dreaming as many pleasant thoughts are there. I lay awake this morning with one thing coursing through my mind. I have been blessed with three incredible daughters. Not only are all three strikingly brilliant but all three are heartstoppingly beautiful. Most people have to settle for one characteristic or the other in their children but I have both. All three share another thing. They have a tenderness that molds their thoughts and lives. Blessed is this father of daughters. I have often wondered what it would be like to have a son. It couldn't possibly be this good.

Once more it rolls a round. An epic day, filled with pleasant memories. God gave us memory that we might have roses in December. Unfortunately roses have thorns. So this day will be as it has always been, filled with bright memories and dark introspection. You can never recapture a rapture.

To lighten things up:
A man walks into a psychiatrists office.
The psychiatrist says "Mr. Jones, I haven't seen you in many years, since I cured you of thinking that you were a moth. Why have you come to see me today?".
Mr. Jones says "I really wasn't coming to see you. I was walking home from work but your light was on.".

Six o'clock in the morning and I am up and ready for the day. Coffee on the porch was invigorating. The air is crisp, the moon was shining through the mist, and only the church bell accents the quiet of this little town. How lonely the bell sounds as it keeps track of the parade of hours that mark the day.
Time, what a mysterious concept. When you are very young, there are times when time seems to be bathed in molasses. The lazy days of Summer can be the definition of lethargy. Then comes the two weeks before the beginning of school and time seems soaked in adrenaline. There are the teen-age years when time seems to have no direction and be slipping by. These are followed by the years when you are raising a young family and time seems to be an unforgiving task master. Up at five, hustle to work, work till nine in the evening, hurry home, go to bed, up at five, and the question keeps reiterating "What is the point? Will I ever be good enough? If I get sick how am I ever going to feed this family? Why is there never enough time to hold these dear ones close and strengthen the bond that was forged the first moment I saw them? What is the point?". Then comes the time when time no longer holds the lash of endless routine. A time when you can go to bed at three in the afternoon if you feel like it and get up at five in the morning because you choose to. A time when only the lonely church bell marks the passage of the day and then the tolling of bells will mark the end of your days as the solemn ebony procession announces the end of time's mastery, the final victory of entropy over chaos. Oh but what a glorious chaos it was! Full of mobiles and bedtime stories and two wheel bicycles and Girl Scouts and piano lessons and guitar lessons and ballet lessons and prom dresses and driving lessons and SATs and FSAFs and suddenly it is over. Time passes and slowly you realize that you have done well. You didn't know what you were doing, you had no plan, the bustle of the moment and the scurrying to make ends meet left no time for planning but somehow you made it. Time slows down, giving you time to reflect on the passing of that glorious chaos. You made mistakes but they were your mistakes and must be part of your legacy. One more bedtime story would be nice and getting out the tool to remove one more set of training wheels would be nice. Sitting in the passenger seat, beaming with pride, and saying "You're too close, slow down." would be nice. I guess that the only worthwhile advice for living should be "Slow down." but I didn't take it and no one else will. Time is the master of all, unless you have a Tardis and a sonic screwdriver.

It is 6:116 A.M. and the Sun is not up yet. The sky has lightened but the Sun has not yet appeared. It is a sure sign that Winter, glorious Winter, is on the way. I have always preferred the Winter to the Summer. The Summer is just there. You don't notice it, it is just there. Its one saving grace is the garden but I don't think that compensates for the days when your underwear tries to meld with your skin. If the air conditioner stops working, then you notice the Summer, big time.
You cannot ignore the Winter. When your nose starts to tingle and the snow under your feet starts to squeak, you better pay attention! Dealing with Winter is simple. Put on more wool. If the heat goes off, another sweater, long johns, and wool socks, will take you outside and more blankets on the bed combined with a nightcap, either wool or bourbon, combine to make for a pleasant sleep. It is the season of stews and roasts and cookies and cocoa and coffee on the porch where the crisp dry air makes you realize that you are alive. No insects, no knocks on the door asking you if you are interested in salvation. I think that I have found salvation and it comes with an extra I, so it must be directed at the individual.
I was wandering the Internet and I discovered a place on the West Coast, Uli's Sausage. Just looking at their catalogue brings Salivation! It has been some time since I went to Carl's Sausage Kitchen on route one in Saugus and I have no way of getting to DePasquale's in Newton. DePasquale's makes only Italian Sausage but they have been making it in a little storefront in Nonantum for over a hundred years and the carry the full line of Pastene products. That means real percatelli and bucatini and the giant cans of plum tomatoes. It is not like being in the Colonial Market on Atwells Avenue but it is a close second. I don't know how many kinds of sausage Carl makes but there must be close to fifty hanging from the ceiling. Oh the days of bratwurst and knackwurst. There is none of either to be had here. There was a decent knackwurst, Old Neighborhood, but I must have been the only one purchasing it and the local store no longer carries it. I remember when my Father would sit us down to Nepco knackwurst and Franco American macaroni and cheese. Nepco knackwurst, as big around as a half dollar with the juice oozing out when you cut it. How the world has changed. No more Nepco knackwurst, no more Franco American macaroni and cheese, no more Kasanov's Bulkies, no more Welch's Caramallow bars, no more Lowenbrau from Munich, no more Double Diamond, and when is the last time that you saw a half dollar?
The government says they are going to have a problem with Social Security. The money is going to run out because the Baby Boomers are going to live too long. The solution is free sausage for everyone over fifty. There is no need for a solution however, as Apophis is going to wipe the slate clean in 2012, just as the Mayans have been predicting for thousands of years. NASA says that Apophis will pass within a few million miles of Earth and NASA has plans for a mission, directed by noted expert Dr. Murphy, to nudge it into a different path. With no O rings and no heat tiles, what could possibly go wrong? Move over dinosaurs, here we come!

Fall is here at last. I awoke this morning to the grey of Dawn and had coffee on the porch. The air was crisp and a mist was rising over the field. Gone are the days of eighty degrees and the sixties are here. Soon there will be pumpkins and hot spiced apple cider and CINNAMON DOUGHNUTS! Time for sweaters and warm stockings, beef stew and apple pie, snow angels and snowmen. Ahh the sixties, a wonderful temperature and a wonderful time to be alive.