Greetings, my fellow port swillers and happy first day of Autumn!

Yes, as friends of the decanter probably well know by now, Fall is Ol’ Robbo’s very favorite season.  The gradual crispening of the air (although you wouldn’t know it by today’s forecast), the turning of the leaves (although they’re a pain in the arse to pick up), the shortening of the days (although I do get tired of commuting in the dark), and the general sense of Ma Nature’s calling it a year and preparing to go night-nights….all of these things give me great pleasure.

In the South Texas of my misspent yoot, there really was no such thing as Fall (or Spring, for that matter).  It stayed hot right up into December.  Then, after easing off for a few weeks, it went right back to being hot.  Nor was there anything like “foliage”: All of the local trees had either small, round leaves (like the live oak) or very thin ones (like the mesquite).  They wouldn’t flame up in brilliant colors, but simply turn brown.   So I never really got to experience Fall until I went away to school in Connecticut.  But I’ve loved it ever since.

My very favorite kind of Autumn day? Forty-five degrees with rain and fog.  The smell of dank, dead leaves underfoot.  The sound of crows in the distance.  The thought of a nice, hot cup of kawfee and a fire when I’m done doing whatever I’m about.  Ol’ Robbo usually takes considerable pains to squash any tendencies toward romanticism.  This is one of the very few times when I actively indulge it.


On a less idyllic note, one odd thing I’m noticing this year is the stink bug population.  For the past few years we really haven’t had all that many of them.  This year? They’re all over the place.  By way of comparison, where I’d usually expect to see maybe four or five on the screens of the Port Swiller Manor back porch, last evening I counted forty.

What does this mean?  Just evidence that they got real busy this year?  A mere temporary spike before they disburse elsewhere? Predictor of a harsh winter?  Harbinger of the coming of Gozer the Gozerian?

Who knows.

Whatever the explanation, they’re quite the nuisance and I hope I’m not going to have to spend all winter constantly knocking the things on their heads.

UPDATED:  Speaking of such things, Ol’ Robbo is laughing heartily at this:  Video of Greta [St. Joan of Bark] Thunberg Crossing Paths With Trump Goes ViralBwahahahaha!!!  The punch line is that they didn’t cross paths.  He simply blew past by and completely ignored her.  As is completely proper when dealing with know-nothing sixteen year olds.  (Trust me on this.)

Oh, and if you don’t want to stomach MSNBC, our favorite Ewok has got it covered here.