The Writer’s Section gathered early on this bright almost-Fall morning in the lovely Piedmont. The leaves are thinning around the recently verdant pastures. It is only an indication of the magic of seasonal change so far, but unmistakable for those who venture outdoors every 53 or 54 minutes for a variety of functions the Chairman does not permit in the Bunkhouse. Temperature was in the mid-fifties this morning, an unmistakable sign of the planet’s immutable inclination in the race around the sun. Although the warmth will return in the afternoon, it is an unmistakable sign of change.

We are a little uneasy. There was a memorandum informing us that Consultants are scheduled to arrive for an examination. The Chairman claims he is going to open up some additional living space to benefit the ‘independent contractors’ who have replaced his old workforce and not subject to medical or retirement benefits. We are no fools and know exactly what he is actually up to. The boxes and residue from his own family still clutter the office, garage, barn and Great House, most of them unmolested since arrival.

That is another change. His recent medical adventure, not to mention the passing of the Queen, have encouraged him to actually clean the place out and minimize inconvenience to the generation now embarked on the middle part of Life’s Great Adventure, the one that features the accumulation of children and junk.

We saw him at his own computer- the one he rarely uses anymore- and he was attempting to determine the current worth of junk accumulated sixty years ago. One was a filled bushel basket of utilitarian edged weapons once intended to be affixed to the rifles of young men drafted for conflicts that ended more than a century ago. He growled during an aperiodic foray down to the bunkhouse, saying that “these GD things cost a couple bucks when I got ’em sixty years ago, and you should see what they go for on eBay these days!”

We avoid it, since our needs are few. Muffled cursing followed his departure, since Splash has taken to using the bayonets for Shish-kabob dishes once the lights dim in the Great Room up the hill. You would also be amazed at some of the uses for old steel helmets which have a new utility once the ancient hand-painted camouflage has been sufficiently burned off.

But that is a representation of another change of seasons, isn’t it? Rocket and Loma took down a brace of the swords from the display rack on the wall, a pair of the newer ones in a style from several conflicts past and almost had the energy to make a few furtive thrusts at one another. Then they put them down and laughed. What with the coming world financial melt-down, it is doubtful that any of it will have much intrinsic value to whoever does well in what is to come. DeMille is of the opinion that it would be more useful to invest in a working tractor with a backhoe and just put it all safely out of sight beneath the unused lunging ring, now becoming visible beyond the bridge as some of the leaves begin to fall.

The Consultants may have other ideas, both of what the future may bring and the appropriate disposition on some of the historical junk. We will keep you posted on how that process goes as we mimic what our Mother Gaea does annually with such gracious aplomb. The Chairman says we only get to do it once, and we may as well enjoy it.

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