I once knew someone who called twilight “entre le chien et le loup”–between the dog and the wolf. It is a very French sort of thing to say; romantic and elegant-sounding, especially in French, but with only a vague sort of meaning. Vague is as vague does, and earlier this week, I began to feel ready for Autumn. I am, mentally, entre le chien et le loup, season-wise.
On the one hand, I am pulling this out of my garden:
And on the other hand, all I can dream about is curling up with this: