My biggest fear, says the nine-tailed fox, is dying a slow agonizing death in a wasteland, away from the one I love. Watching this k-drama, I think, yes, that would be my fear as well, for loneliness is devastating. But my cat chooses to jump on me then, and begins to purr. How could I be lonely?

One of the best things about living where I do are the horses I can see grazing from my high windows. They are past the small line of wetland, on a farm that has recently become condominiums, though the owner decided to keep the horses. I haven’t seen the horses for a few days and worry they have been moved elsewhere. A neighbor assures me they are still there. It is small good thing to see, horses grazing.

It is late October, and I decide to buy discounted blue lobelia for my balcony. They might last another month. The fuchsia stills blooms, as dies the stray nasturtium and morning glory. The hummingbirds have fled for warmer temperatures. I will turn 63 soon, though I still feel like decades younger, —nostalgic as well. I saw Madonna on her Blonde Ambition tour—I had a T-shirt from that show once. Sunday I will watch a movie of the Taylor Swift Eras show.

In my teens, a prophetic friend warned me to gather today’s rosebuds—was it a line from a French poet? I confess regrets for not saying yes when asked out decades ago by various people I met. A man appeared at a farmer’s market once in Boulder to offer his umbrella to me, and asked if I wanted to join his friends for lunch. Feeling shy, I declined, but twenty years later, I wish I had joined him. Bus stop was one of my favorite songs after all, and I did not see the romantic umbrella trope in front of me! Is loneliness a choice limited by fear? Does fear make us choose lonliness—fear of choosing unwisely?

Winter thoughts.

Still, the cat.

And I just saw a horse.