Autumn Again

I was only gone five and a half days, but when I came back, the lemon tree had been moved to Kathy and Steve's porch, and yesterday morning there was frost on the windshield.  The ginkgoes in the neighborhood are now mostly yellow, but ours - always the last one in the neighborhood to change color - was yellow-green yesterday; today, it's more yellow that yellow-green.  There's a Japanese maple on Cumberland that is red on the top, orange in the middle, and green on the bottom.  It's cold enough that the dog doesn't mind being outside.  An email from the farm in Elberton that we need to come next Saturday to pick up our turkey.  First quarter report cards and midterm exams.  Who's in town who can work the Friday after Thanksgiving?

The house on Cumberland that was empty and unfinished for so long has been finished up, modern (from looking at it from the outside) and ecofriendly (according the the sign in the front yard).  It's not stylistically a match for the 1920s bungalows on the street, but there are no Design Police in our neighborhood, telling you what's acceptable and what's not as far as the appearance of your house is concerned.  (If there were, probably someone would have words with me, as we are still flying the flag of the Kingdom of Libya at our house.)  It looks like they did a wonderful job of transforming the empty white box into a beautiful home.  Last night, as we drove to the symphony, we saw people in the dining room, a bottle of wine on the table.  There never was a "For Sale" sign in front of the house, after the work started; whoever was responsible for the completed renovation apparently planned to live there, and now I think they do.

Up the street, Millie and Jon are putting a second story on their house.  Although there is still a construction dumpster in the front yard, the exterior work seems mostly to be done.  Friends have been coming to help them with interior painting.  They have a compelling deadline for completing the work, with a baby on the way.  Their architect did a good job, with a design that fits the street.  The only "For Sale" signs on the street are at the apartments at Wessyngton and Highland, which still are on the market as a site for Three Luxury Homes.  They have been on the market for a long time.

The analysis of the ten sickest housing markets in the United States in August listed Atlanta as number 4; I suspect our friends in the apartments are not going to have to move just yet.  Yesterday I mentioned to Tom that it's been a long time since I've seen shattered car parts on the sidewalk on North Highland; we've assumed that this is an economic indicator, of sort, that the Drinking and Driving Set are spending less at bars south of us before driving home.  So I knew what he was talking about when he said, "We should have known it wasn't real."  A fake affluence, driving by an artificial rise in the price of housing, ultimately did in the U.S. economy in 2008, and even though the numbers say that things are getting better, it doesn't feel that way.

A chickadee grabs a sunflower seed from the feeder on my dining room window.  Leaves on the ground in the back yard.  I need to do something with those lemons, and clear out a space in the freezer for the turkey.  It's that time of year.