Pet Sliver

Adam got a sliver near the arch of his left foot. He didn't tell me about it. I noticed him curling his toes and bending his foot inward as he tried to run, stiff-legged, behind his brothers. When I examined his foot to find out why, he wiggled and tried to pull it from my hand with all his might (wow, that kid is stronger than he looks!) and tearfully begged me not to touch it.

"But I can get it out for you!"

"No, no, no. Don't touch it!" (kicks his foot out of my grasp and begins hobbling away)

(following him) "If I get it out it won't hurt anymore."

"Leave it. Don't touch it. No!" (sobbing/hobbling)

"Please let me help you. I'll be quick!"

"No!" (sob/hobble)

"Would you rather just have it poking in your foot like that?"

"Yes!"

(stop, sigh, mutter) "I guess it will work its way out. Eventually."

October's Bright Blue Weather

I have always loved fall, even as a child. The feeling of change, gorgeous leaves, apples, costumes, and candy. Now because of where I live October has the additional charm of being that time when the weather finally cools off. People you haven't seen the whole blazing summer are suddenly out walking their dogs, sitting on their porches, and playing ball at the park. And even though I don't get to see all those gorgeous fall colors and I don't have an apple tree, I still love the season and all it's spice and celebrations.

My mom quotes the first stanza of this poem every October. I've come to love it, and every year the words fly through my head.

October's Bright Blue Weather
by Helen Hunt Jackson

O SUNS and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And Golden-Rod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When Gentians roll their fringes tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.