Another warm, wet morning. The basement dehumidifier filled overnight. The last leaves are flying from the ash trees, circling like birds in the wind. The oaks still hold a full crown, though their colors are changing, too.

Going for a chilly, blustery walk I was stunned by the sunset, breaking through under scuttling clouds. It set the treetops ablaze with orange gold. An aging sun, retreating south for the winter. The sight went straight through my brain and hit the back of my skull – it caught at the throats of my eyes. Glorious.