Last week, autumn slipped in quietly, looking pretty much just like the last day of summer. Well, on the second day of autumn, I found out just why it's also called fall, as we were brushed with a nor'easter, bringing winds and rain that knocked lots of leaves and some branches off trees and bushes stressed by a long summer of serious heat and drought.

The flowers on the gardenias are still clinging fast, though.

On the political beat.

In a recent interview, Judge Judy Scheinlein trotted out the tired trope If you don’t like this country, go somewhere else.

I find it interesting that she delivered this comment on the 250th anniversary of the birth of the United States. If this attitude was operative then, George, Tom, Ben, the Adams boys, Pat, the Jimmys and all those other pesky 'patriots' would have packed their bags for more pleasant political climes.

Diggin' it.

Hanging with the Norfolk Botanical Garden.

DIG (yeah, my headline was a bad pun, deal with it) magazine arrived a while back, with news of exciting new events, classes, and installations. Also a plant sale.

Let's start with that. If you need new trees or bushes, there's an open to the public sale on Saturday & Sunday October 3 &#amp; 5. When you commune with nature, you have your own time.

The title of the issue is 'Art Begins with Nature.' I'm not sure I agree with the sentiment—there are so many places that creation can start), but we'll let 'em have it.

I will agree that nature is low-hanging fruit if you want to get into the creative/art game, and if you aren't playing there yet, you really should. So good for the spirit.

Irony.

Weatherbug, my weather app of choice, has gotten a little more, shall we say assertive, in providing advertising to its weather consumers. That's OK–they have to pay the bills somehow. Mostly, though, the ads were unobtrusive and easy to ignore.

Today, though, right there in the middle of the home screen, was an ad for something called AmericanPest. Considering the pestilence that is web advertising, it's great fun to speculate that there is a double entendre/meaning at play here, but no. These folks are irony-obtuse.

The lazy reader's poetry source.

I once had a poetry teacher who claimed he put obscure, obtuse words (like obscure and obtuse?) into his poems 'to make his readers work.' Never made much sense, especially since readers always have the option to 'work or walk.' To me, such behavior only reinforces a sense you're dealing with a self-inflated ego flavored with pomposity.

Well, fret no more, fair reader, for some web-based poetry providers are now providing annotations, like this note on a Lucille Clifton poem. Now, they don't tell you that the poem is a sonnet. They deal only in the trivial, providing an explanation for what 'babylon' is (where they keep the whores) and making a gossamer-thin comparison to lines from a Keats poem, which added less than nothing to Clifton's brilliant image.

Scaremongering.

Newsweek tries to get our attention with Most Who Stop GLP-1 Drugs Like Ozempic Face the Same Fate—Expert Explains.

Oh, no! We're all going to die! Maybe not right away, and maybe not from stopping GLP-1s, but yep, guaranteed. And I don't think we need an expert to explain. But I am curious about the not-most. Have some of us found the secret to eternal life? Newsweek isn't telling.

Oh, come on.

I was reading an article about why some people attract lots more spam calls (spoiler alert: pick up the phone and say hello), which, in the general scheme of things, was of no interest to me. But here I was, reading it.

Anyway, while reading, I came across the term 'zillennial' (or zennial), someone who dwells between Gen Z and millenials. Think of them as being on a chronological cusp. I also found out this is referred to as a microgeneration, which I personally feel is a division too far that provides absolutely no value to understanding or the state of discourse in general.

Grumble, grumble, says the old man, aka Boomer, who seems to be left out of the conversation, being neither in GenZ or a millennial.

The neighbor's guide to canine culture, as viewed by a non-participant.

Sometimes I think that owning a dog is a precondition for living in this neighborhood, judging from the number of people I see with dogs versus those without. I wonder: is there a reason for it? A meaning behind it?

The dog park.

First, I'd like to say how much I enjoy the Progressive 'Dog Park' commercials. Light, funny, unobtrusive.

Our neighborhood is blessed with lots of open spaces for dogs to romp, including two large officially designated dog parks, which do double duty as sandlots for baseball, soccer, and swordfights (at least, that's what I think it was. One abuts our back yard, allowing us lots of chances to observe. The space seems to cater to herding and retrieving breeds, with lots of fetching. It's also a chance to see wildlife–mostly birds and squirrels, but sometimes rabbits and other critters.

Dog walk/run.

In front of the house, we see a steady parade of people and families out walking their dogs, especially in good weather. Some observations, probably not enough to warrant a full-on sociology study, but interesting.

• Dog walkers (and families with kids) stay on the sidewalk. Walkers and joggers are more likely to use the street, but those with critters stay on the sidewalk.
• Our dogwalkers are universally equipped with resources to clean up after their pets. Thank you.
• More walkers are willing to wait while their dogs nose around interesting smells than drag them along impatiently.
• Sometimes it's hard to tell who's in charge and controlling the leash, especially if a Sheltie or border collie is at one end.
• It's surprising how many little dogs there are in the neighborhood. And we're talking tiny. Yorkies could stare down at many of them.
• It's surprising how many of the small dogs are accompanied by very large male owners, almost in inverse proportion.

Last straw.

I finally had it with the 'authorities' headlines when Vice offered up 4 Signs Your First Date Has Real Relationship Potential, According to a Psychologist.

A psychologist? You managed to put yourself out to scrounge up one whole psychologist to talk about this subject? Such pavement-pounding dedication to getting the story! I'll bet you found a 'clean' psychologist who specializes in this kind of relationship and has no dating history of her/his own? Or I bet you just went out in the street and found some rando who, for the price of a venti, was willing to pretend to be a psychologist and answer your questions!

Time for some homework. According to the Ambitions website, there are 81,000 practicing psychologists in the United States. One psychologist is not a percent–it's not even a rounding error. And yet, this one person is supposed to determine the parameters and success of a potentially life-changing event.

And, is a psychologist the most appropriate professional to consult? Do we really need a professional? Wouldn't we be better off hearing from 100, 50 or even 10 people who are active on the dating scene? You might even get better information from watching a season or two of Friends, or maybe even Three's Company.

So glad the 'read the headline move on' rule is in place.