The brook bottom is black, waterless. Forget-me-nots and Cardinal Flower and jewel weed grow in scattered colonies. In the quiet of the brook bed I move slowly in the warming day. Autumn warmth, a clear sky, no frost. I bend and find this astonishing red heard, leaf of the Cardinal flower, and give thanks for this new day. Leaves are starting to turn and the colors are vibrant and fiery, full of energy. I have slept with the windows open and my thoughts are clear and hopeful despite all the bad news. There is plenty. But the news of the last of these wildflowers and leaves is news I need in technicolor. I work with writing clients, listening to stories, writing with them. My eyes and ears and heart are open. When I am free in the afternoon, my daughter and I and the dogs eagerly go in the 80 degree sunshine to Farm Pond. Splendor. I swim into what feels like a painting, as if I am not swimming in water but blues and deep greens and golds. The glassy surface, the water a nice chill. The sun on my back, in my face. The strength in my arms and legs and lungs. I go out in a wide arc around the island; my daughter too, and the baby unborn. This autumn day, I climb up on the dock and say to my daughter, best swim yet. But I say that every day, I realize. I mean it today. I am colored and calm and grateful for the beauty of this new day.