I feel autumn creeping into this day.

I awoke to the blissful realization that I needed to wear a cotton sweater. I chose a cableknit beige cotton sweater with jeans and Keens. (It's still Washington, you know. And no, I did not wear socks with the sandals.)

It felt so firm against my skin, so much in contact with my body. Not too heavy, but solidly, reassuringly there. I will be here, keeping you snug when the odd breeze happens along. I will ground and center you in this day.

I lovingly pulled a snag through from the front to the back side of the weave. Best to let the sweater maintain her sense of dignity.

What's next for Scoutie's sweater repertoire? Oh, the white t-shirt with the v-neck navy blue cable-knit Gap number. Or the brown one. Chocolate brown, of course. I don't have the complexion range to wear anything tending toward orange.

Then, we move into the wool sweaters. This involves a carefully planned underlayer of cotton turtleneck, to avoid the otherwise inevitable neck chafing. My charchoal black rollneck from Pike Place Market will be a friend for a very long time. The J. Crew burgundy rollneck is a little jealous, but they are sorting out their visitation schedule. You will see each of them. Last but not least is my 20 year old Ecuadoran multicolored thick-as-tar wool sweater, the one I bought on Vendors row at WWU in my junior year. It is sewn together with various colors of random yarn that I found along the way. It is my most special sweater, right after my late grandfather's navy blue JC Penney golf cardigan. I do, at times, wear that, especially on his birthday/mirthday.

Sweaters make for a good hunker. There is nothing I like more than a good hunker, so sweaters are cozy and welcome as friends of friends.

I turned on the propane stove tonight for the first time since May. I love the heat it puts out. And I love being able to control how much I use it. The kitties love curling up behind, around, and in front of it. I keep plants on top, so that kitties don't burn themselves by sitting on the top, where it's hot enough to eventually boil water.

Mmmm, the warm milk is kicking in. Time for a good hunker down.

If you can't be handsome, at least try to be handy. Possum Lodge out.

Stop on by Port-au-Patois one evening for sweaters, campfire, and s'mores. Nothing wrong with that.