Sunday morning arrived clear and warm, with not one cloud over the garden. "Perfect futon weather," Linda announced, already pulling open the closet doors.
"Futon weather?" Lyn asked, still holding her tea.
"Sunshine like this is rare in autumn," Linda said. "We should air out the guest futon today, before the cold weather comes."
Together they carried the thick folded futon out to the garden and draped it over a low wooden rack. Star trotted back and forth beside them, sniffing at the fabric with great interest.
"No digging, Star," Lyn warned, laughing, as the dog gave the futon one hopeful paw-pat before sitting down to guard it instead.
By midmorning, the futon had turned warm and faintly sweet, smelling of sunshine. Lyn pressed her palm against it. "It already feels cozier," she said.
Linda beat the futon gently with a long wooden paddle, sending up a small cloud of dust that caught the light. "Better out here than on John's first night," she said, smiling.
Pinkysan watched the whole process from a safe distance, perched on the veranda railing, tail flicking at every thump of the paddle.
"She doesn't trust that paddle one bit," Lyn said.
"Smart cat," Linda replied.
When the futon was finally folded and carried back inside, Linda crossed it off her list with a satisfied little check mark. "Guest futon, done," she read aloud. "Next: extra blankets."
"One thing at a time," Lyn said, though she was smiling just as wide as Linda. "We really do have weeks, you know."
"I know," Linda said. "But doesn't it feel good to be ready early?"
That afternoon, the two of them sat on the sun-warmed veranda, Star stretched out at their feet and Pinkysan curled in a patch of light nearby. The persimmon tree outside glowed a deeper orange than ever, and somewhere beyond it, autumn kept quietly turning the pages of the calendar toward November.
(To be continued)