Transitions

It’s snowing. Earlier today, I deposited the almost-last-of-the fallen leaves into my now-battered yard waste container. Winter is creeping up on us.

Except for extensive raking and various attempts to compress the thousands upon thousands of leaves into the container, I didn’t really play with autumnal bounty. But I did enjoy walking through the crunchy terrain and kicking an occasional botanical flounce.

This time of year, there are interior transitions mirroring the weather changes. About two weeks ago, I replaced my summer-weight blanket with a comforter.

[Is there anything with a name more appropriate than comforter?]

The first night it was on the bed, my cat Guinness was intrigued. He sniffed it and eyed with just the slightest suspicion. We generally have a little play session before lights out and he seemed just a bit more circumspect than usual.

Sometime during the night, he got over it.

First he pounced on my toes, then my knees, then on anything that moved under the comforter. He’d go away for a while then return and pounce again. And again. I swear he was purring.

He only did that that one night (thank heavens). I guess I could have thrown him out of the bedroom but he seemed to be having so much fun.

It was, I think, the equivalent of jumping into a pile of leaves … for an inside cat. As long as it happens only once a year, it is okay. At least one of us played.