Allie Dillon

A fan of backyard color. On Boothill.

Sean and I zipped up Mopac for the Y right after the Japanese Leaves posting yesterday morning. Zipping takes about 12 minutes. From the Hollow to Lady Bird Lake. In the heart of Austin. And I was going to zip back. And pop up a post of Austin Leaves that have been pressed in my files for a few days.

But Sean and I were the only members of his LifeStrong class who showed at the gym yesterday. So there is a tiny story to tell before leafing.

The instructors were waiting for us at the door. Must be Sean’s fellow survivors have started the holiday early—which is normal for all in Austin. Starting holidays early and letting them last late. Cancer giddy or not.

The Yoga instructor was psyched when she got to the gym to hear only one member was there. She decided she could then take time to run an errand to buy a baby present to bring to a Thanksgiving house. She was aiming for a fluffy touchy baby book. And I was glad she found some time in her day. To find the kind fluff in a binding.

Then she decided to check in with Sean. Little did she know if she asked a question that he would answer it honestly. 100%. She asked him if he still wanted to have Yoga class and he said yes. Yes, he would like the Yoga class but understood that she had an errand she wanted to run. So the decision was back on her mat.

Good for her. She held the class. For Sean. Who invited me to join. Along with a personal LifeStrong trainer. Upstairs in the dance room. Where the Bradford Pear leaves graced the windows with burgundy and peach. The three of us had a wonderful yoga class. That we nailed in 25 minutes. So the instructor still had time to go scoop up that baby present before her next class at the mental hospital. Which is obviously another client. Along with the Y. And the LiveStrong program.

With our minds and hamstrings properly stretched–acknowledging the leaves and letting them pass on through–we are thankful for Yoga instructors who go with the flow. On with our Austin Leaves. For Thanksgiving Week.  ox y’all.  Allie D.

We garden vertically. And horizontally. On Boothill.

Anna's Oak. Two doors down. On Boothill.

We live in a tree house. On Boothill.

Color on both sides. Of the panes. On Boothill.

Peeking over the neighbor's fence. Again.

Hummingbird leaf. Do you see it?

Crispy taco leaf. On the fence. On Boothill.

Chinaberries stick in the paws. On Boothill.

Fall leaf falls. On Boothill.

Fall garden path. On Boothill. Pretty enough for a wedding.

H Potter-ish sunset through the Hollow. On Boothill.

My favorite fall photo. So far. On Boothill. Happy Thanksgiving y'all.

Sean & I drove to Don’s Grass in Oak Hill today. It’s really Don’s big dirt parking lot under the shadows of Convict Hill (where convicts quarried pink marble to build the State Capitol building, which, like a lot of Texas, is bigger. Bigger than the U.S. State Capitol in terms of the height of its dome. On purpose). 

We were after only 15 pieces of sod (AKA Don’s Grass); our 6^th attempt to create an outdoor carpet for the two beasts we call The Boothill Boys. As they magically peel the grass off any piece of sod that has ever been laid, they need to be free range suburban dogs. With portable fences that can be moved around the Hollow for fresh grazing. And sniffing. And meeting new squirrels.  What they really need is acreage. Without fire ants or rattlesnakes. Or maybe a beach. With a palm tree obstacle course for Dusty. To give him fair advantage over Dooley’s reach. 

In Austin, you can’t just throw out grass seed and end up with a lawn. Take that back for one season—you can throw out annual rye grass seed and end up with a floppy 6″ glossy emerald green lawn for the bulk of the winter. From January to March. About. It’s tempting to throw out that annual seed. Emerald green is a priceless color. And rare on the ground here in Austin. 

But we’re biting the bullet and showing some green restraint this year. We’ve been tossing out compost in the spaces between St. Augustine grass hoping some running will occur. So we carpeted just an island for the boys. Who should feel blades of grass. Up close and personal. However temporary. 

Back at the other dirt yard, while Sean backed up the truck to receive the oblong slabs of sod, I wandered into the old stone building at the back of the lot and found a haunted house. All to myself. A very unexpected Haunting at High Noon. Which is still a very suspenseful time here in the heart of Texas. When you live on the range with the cowboys. And cowgirls. High Noon was plenty spooky for me. Check out our sod visit. Happy Halloween! 

The pumpkins were pretty scary

A welcome from mummy.

Room 66. Convict Hill, Austin

Lacey Jane. Austin

Space Cadet.

the biggest styro pumpkin I've ever seen--it's bigger in TX