Starting today, the sun will set not long after many of us get off work, since we are back on standard time. The dry spell has been replaced by buckets of rain. A few days ago, I drove to Corsicana to pick up a friend and bring him back to Longview. It rained the entire trip there and back. Along Texas 31, round bales of hay sat in pastures flooded by swollen creeks. Forlorn cotton bales were stacked in an asphalt lot in one small town, blue tarps placed on top in an unsuccessful attempt to keep them dry. In nearby fields, the harvested plants, with leftover bolls peeking in stark contrast from brown stalks, also stood in water. I watched a herd of Angus calves splash through water, heading to higher ground.

And still it rained. I've learned not to complain. Don't want to annoy the drought gods and prompt their return.

The leaves are finally turning color and turning loose. My back yard is carpeted in yellow leaves from the earliest leaf shedder, the unidentifiable (by me) tree over the shop. The neighbor's Chinese pistache tree soon will blaze a most interesting shade of reddish-orange. My next-door neighbor's dogwood tree has already peaked in color. Still another neighbor's hackberry tree came crashing down during one of the recent gully-washers. It took out half a magnolia on its descent. Now that the debris is cleared, the view from my back porch includes a scarred magnolia with jagged limbs reaching toward the sky. With luck, by spring the magnolia will begin to rebound. At least I hope so.

I picked a couple dozen cherry tomatoes on Oct. 24 and then chopped down the oft-discussed tomato plants. I took down my first-place ribbon from the chain-link fence. My neighbor followed suit a few hours later. Our friendly tomato wars are over for this season. The Big Boy plant kept producing tomatoes well into the autumn, but they would never ripen, on or off the vine. The cherry tomatoes kept ripening, but had shrunken to raisin size. I guess my tomato acquisitions will be at the grocery store for the next several months.

**

I took a walk the other day after work, since morning rain precluded my daily dawn habit for a few days. The six-man football team was practicing down the street at Trinity School. I've covered six-man football a few times throughout the years in small towns across Texas. The sport is fun to watch, with lots of scoring. I wish this inaugural team well.

The church bells pealed out the time as I walked. I love living near a trio of churches and hearing the bells. A waxing half-moon peered out in the blue sky, the cool front having passed through. Pecans still encased in their green shells littered the street. I reveled in walking in the afternoon, wearing a sweatshirt without sweating.

At Teague Park, where I make a lap each trek to check on the fowl, the water lapped near overflowing. Some Canadian snow geese are vacationing here, probably resting up before heading down to South Texas or Mexico for the winter. I've been keeping tabs on a baby goose born during summer. She (I think it's a female) is now as big as the mom. They are still inseparable.

**

The night before, I indulged myself by watching a show on public television. I turned on the gas logs in the fireplace and half-watched television while reading, lulled into somnolence by both the fire and warmth of Maggie the cat, curled up in my lap. Eventually, I realized my midsection had gone numb from the weight of this hefty cat and moved her to a neighboring chair. I wonder if anyone has coined a phrase for body parts going numb from the weight of a sleeping feline. Cat-atonic comes to mind.

I don't know about you, but I find it startling that just two months remain in this interesting year. Wow. Time flew. The seasons seem to pass ever more quickly as the years pile up. Some days I feel a sense of urgency, as I angst over things not yet accomplished, all the while facing a diminishing stockpile of days.

But most of the time I'm grateful for a half-moon shining in a blue autumn sky, a stiff northern breeze, and birds singing from the tree limbs and utility wires, as I walk briskly through the neighborhood.

Gary Borders is publisher of the Longview News-Journal. E-mail: gborders@longview-news.com.