"It was a morning of ground mist, yellow sunshine, and high rifts of blue, white-cloud-dappled sky.  The leaves were still thick on the trees, but de-spangled gossamer threads hung on the bushes and the shrill little cries of unrest of the swallows skimming the green open park spaces of the park told of autumn and change."
-   Flora Thompson 

When I am in the wetlands, early, I feel the cold, moist crumple of leaves and ferns and weeds under my feet. We were alone in the silence, Charlie and me. We were taking our time. There was so much to bend to, examine, appreciate. And the wetlands were a gallery of spangled webs strung between stalks of milkweed and branches of leafless stalks. It was a Halloweenish surprise. All that glittered. The milkweed stretched open its pods of brown seeds and fluff. It was a day to appreciate the earth. My favorite, these wetlands. Soon enough, the ice will form! Hold our weight! Change change change. Indoors, I let the fresh air blow through openings. It was a busy day, with precious moments. I led the open mic for the IWWG and hosted Vanessa Jimenez Gabb as our featured poet - wonderful! - and the readers in the open mic, a warm and wonderful afternoon that ran long. And, then I emerged to find outside the front door a vegetarian lasagna baked with love and skill and generosity and surprise by a dear neighbor and friend. It was delicious and filled us up.