The other colors of fall

Several times a day, the forest echos with rifle shots.

Hunters bounce along the sandy roads in their little white Renault Expresses, often with a pack of excitable hounds just visible through the grimed windows. Even hearing the brassy peals of hunting horns, the unwary can be startled by a bullet of brown and white fur shooting out of the bracken to course its master's truck.

Teens too young to drive cars putter around on mud-spattered mobilettes, straps of their gun cases slung across their camouflaged chests like a beauty pageant contender's banner.

Around here, death comes in a rainbow assortment of colors.

The little things

Like most people I know--ok, I'm exaggerating an assumption--I have a million and one things I'd like to blog about.  I fully intend to share things that I find interesting, beautiful, moving, things that make me wonder, that make me smile, things that irritate me, or things I want to record for my own memory.  But the days slip by and I don't get around to it.  Tonight, though, I want to do one of those record-for-posterity's-sake posts, though, so that, someday, when Soëlie asks, I'll be able to tell her when she did such and such.


( Pics and motherly ramblings )

frigg, footlingagain, I know I'm supposed to be in bed, but my love called and delayed my posting. :P  Tomorrow, I'll be in bed on time for sure!