Tonight's patio time is for just me. Some light jazz plays on the Tidy Cat Bucket Boom Box, the fire hisses in the fire pit, toasting my feet. The waxing Blood Moon climbs the sky to the ESE, and a hint of Southwestern Monsoonal moisture graces the southern sky.
Hot spiced cider wards off the chill of this last evening of Summer 2015, and I just charged the firepit with seasoned Asian Pear wood on top of the fatwood embers. The jazz piano recital playing now reminds me of high school, and my English teacher, Mr. Chapin. He was a concert-quality pianist, but DeeCee was full of them in 1960, so he taught English at the Maret School, which I attended with my brother and sister. We lived in the same block as the school, and Mr. Chapin would come in an hour early, and play his jazz stylings on the Steinway Grand in the auditorium. We were permitted early entry to listen to him play. It was a powerful and inspiring start to the school day.