September | 2016 | Michael S. Moore

…and counting. A last enjoyable supper with the New Yorkers from down the road leaving us dim and -inished for Friday’s,

then for the final four days the weather turns even more excruciatingly beautiful.

Mysteriously, it rains all – or a lot – Friday night into Saturday morning. [Rains again Sunday on the laundry too…]

…leaving the forest glistening prior to our last Gardner Trifecta,

…meanwhile after a lengthy dinner with Dean here at home the weather to the west seems to have improved preceding l’homme flambeé; with the dweebiest ‘Man” in memory set up on some rudimentary plywood “castle” it was arguably the lamest burn ever witnessed;

it did, however, create its own small weather systems…

So into Sunday with the usual…

[plus Raymond brought us a last cord of piñon just before that rain on lunchtime’s laundry]

Boringman…next up, the Temple. That line of dust must be outside the Administered Zone; going a bit faster than the proscribed 5mph on the desert…

On the new moon of September comes the famously moving spiritual embodiment of All Things Good about BM, the Temple Burning, although the image, wh?…might have been just any ol’ bonfire courtesy of David Best, International;

Hand-lacquered siding [according to the quite possibly ill-informed radio blitherer] and all…sigh…all those Sincere Wishes, Laments and Sins up in smoke, yet again…until next year’s ceremonial Potlatch while nearly simultaneously half a world away David’s replica of 1666 London is burning on the Thames in commemoration of the 350th anniversary of the Great Fire…

Next morning,”Exodus”; five hours to the make the mile to the pavement, then “the” 447, “the” 80 and the radio, which always seems to improve in the aftermath, continues though the webcam goes down soon after…

Preparatory to our own exodus, we take a last walk up the creek…mild, windy, autumnal and painfully clear as Aguilar’s summer friend makes a last canine cameo for the camera