Autumn in the Bay Area means clear, sunny weather and fluctuating temperatures during the day. It can be cool in the morning, eighty degrees at midday, and warm for a long time after the sun goes down or chilly the minute the sun drops behind the hills if the wind kicks up and the fog comes in. Even the fog has changed with the season. Now we get the tattered, drifting kind, not the thick marine layer that blocks out the sun and stars. Walking to the parking lot after class lets out is spooky; it's like walking through a cloud, objects flickering in and out of sight and the trees dripping heavily though the rest of the ground is dry.

I've been a very studious and responsible person all weekend. I have done my chores, studied my history, begun my research on my history topic, and practiced the piano. I've written to all my Journalcon panelists with topic suggestions and details of what's expected of them. I have put in sandstone slabs in the front garden but failed to anchor them properly. I hope the landscaper will come by and do it for me without commenting on my taste. His choice was a dark slate that blended with the earth but I preferred a lighter color, afraid I wouldn't be able to distinguish between ground and stone in the twilight which is usually when I water in the spring. I bought and planted a silver fern, a stunning Clerodendrum thomsoniae (image courtesy of the Tropical Plants Library), and a jolly little sage with coral pink flowers. I may come to regret the Clerodendrum, known as a Bleeding Heart even though it's not a dicentra. Apparently it gets large and takes over anything it leans against, so I stuck it in the middle of the garden with a short stake to twine around. It can winter there and provide a little vertical interest until the rest of the plants come back in the spring.

Somehow, despite all the work I've done I don't feel much of a sense of accomplishment. I don't feel particularly dissatisfied, either, I only wonder why I don't feel more pleased about everything. I've done some goofing around, it wasn't all work and discipline. I played the Sims (getting good Buffy character faces has revitalized my interest in the game). I watched two episodes of Buffy and once again pondered why there is such a strong dislike of the Riley character among Buffy fans. I think the actor is handsome, I think he plays the part exactly as he's meant to and does a fine job of it, and I think his character is a very necessary element of the show's arc to show the development of Buffy's true nature.

Jasper is sticking his cold nose under my arm forcefully, reminding me it's time to go out and look at the full moon. We will go and welcome the new season, and come home to dog biscuits and clean laundry and well-deserved sleep. I think perhaps I feel a sense of satisfaction after all.

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