Drought

Trees have died. Trees I saw every day, who seemed just fine and then this long, long drought just wiped them out. 

It's not like I didn't try. I did and so did Art, and so we watered when we could and yet they died. 

A few are just sad carcasses standing there. Grey skeletons scraping the sky with fright-armed branches. Of special sad note is that camellia, the last one left in the front. Those glossy green leaves are gone. Now they're hard and brown and curled-in tight. Halloween is past and it's no longer seasonal, just sad. Like the spider webs and dust and sand. 

Meat and Flower

The dogs and I eat meat and love. It's not "cognitive dissonance". Without ambivalence we are the true monsters, so sure of ourselves that we'd exclude any chance of another way, unadaptable unless lucky enough to have our mania meet the needs of our free-form niche.  Bicoastal America's a bit like that. Freeform niche and all.

There are bon vivant, passive aggressive predators who swill fine wine and jabber sports scores. You'd barely see them coming if you weren't forewarned. A different breed.