But at least the fig leaves all come down on the same day. Yesterday afternoon was dry, and I got most raked up. It's a miserable job when they're soggy and wet. I'm laying in bed right now listening to the rain beating down. November has finally arrived.
In fact, I might stay in bed all day plucking fretfully at the coverlet, reading "Wuthering Heights." I got a high-dose flu shot yesterday and my arm hurts and I feel yucky. The information sheet says one of the common side effects is a feeling of malaise.
What a wonderful word, meaning: a condition of general bodily weakness or discomfort, often marking the onset of a disease; a vague or unfocused feeling of mental uneasiness, lethargy, or discomfort.
Anyway, back to the tree. There's the usual big crop of useless green figs. The starlings eat some, but most fall down and rot on the ground. In early spring, John cuts the tree branches all the way back and I clean out the mess that sprouted up underneath. Goodness, that tree is a lot of work, considering what it gives back! And it's probably going to outlive us all.
In other local news, this has been a tremendous week for sports. The Sounders won a championship game on Sunday, the soccer equivalent of the Super Bowl. Fans have been celebrating in Pioneer Square ever since, and today there's a big rainy victory parade downtown. Then on Monday night football, in a nail-biting, wild overtime game, the Seahawks beat their arch rival, the undefeated San Francisco 49's. Pride comes before the fall, but for now, we're doing some gloating.
Back to Heathcliff and Cathy.
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