Winter is coming and I feel the need to make provision for it- squirrel up nuts, if you see what I mean. It's an atavistic urge- I live in the all-providing urban west and nothing is going to run out- but still, there it is, impossible to shrug off, and with it comes a not unpleasant sense of excitement- gotta get busy, busy, busy. I fall in with it by setting myself a roster of little tasks to be finished by next spring: paint the house, recast and finish the novel- things like that.
What I like best about winter are the winter stars. Orion is going to be striding up the evening sky again with Sirius at his heels. I'm going to see Aldebaran and the Pleiades.