|Let’s hope this kid’s teeth haven’t come in yet.|
I’m yelling at myself as much as I am anyone. Writing the massive final chapter of an epic zombie series does tend to take up metaphysical RAM. I’ve been happy enough to watch the slow, one-week-off-schedule turning of the leaves. I might run a sweetly maudlin photo essay later featuring all of these trees I won’t be around to see bud again—that is, if all goes according to plan, and we sell the house and move.
Meanwhile, it’s a fine October afternoon. You only get 31 of these in a year. Let’s enjoy this while it lasts.