cold, wet, and awful.
no, not my underpants,
the weather.
grossness is pervading the atmosphere.
wet oaks drop branches bigger than babies on my roof.
loud and hard, just the way i like it.
there're acorns rockin' my world up here in a hailstormy deluge of debris.
the Fall fallout free-falling from the boughs is bangin' breakbeats outside the bedroom.
i can't stand the rain, kids, and you know this;
this nasty drippy drab doo-doo is the precursor to big treats, though.
the nights are longer and harder,
and all that chilled-out darkness leads to light bright magnificence.
peak season is headed down the pike, ya'll.
that's autumn foliage color explosions
all over and under the valleys and mountains of the woodsly goodness.
somethin' about cold rain has the secret nutrient combination.
it activates the sugar-changing tint-transformers in the trees.
i'm ready.
i need the hottness of the fiery flame-hued treeline.
it'll help soothe the road-raging berserker fury directed at all the leaf-peepers
out on the rural roads, driving like snail-paced gawkers,
amazed that when you don't pave over 'em to build donut shops and discount retail outlets,
trees are actually pretty flippin' rad.
where's the lorax when you need a lesson to be taught?
i'm just sayin',
it's unfortunate that trees become almost safari-like exotic and rare spectacles
to weak-sauce waterbabyish city-limited sh!t-slickers.
but while the deep doo-doo of elderly lookers-on is lame as F*,
the sparkle magical freshness of Fall is in mutherlickin' full swing.
when the rainy days are over,
the wicky-wacky windy wonderment will kick it up to eleven.
it's a waiting game:
one week until the fair.
one more day until my weekend.
one hour, one minute, one moment at a time....
ma nature is shaking her money-maker, my ninjas,
like a go-go dancing stormswept gypsy stripper,
peeling layers in red, yellow, orange, green and brown;
i'm paying my pre-winter dues in the woodsly hood,
waiting for my all natural lapdance of autumny butt-nastiness;
never quiet, never soft.....
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