Yesterday I walked in real shoes (well, they were Merrell’s). I drove, a real car (well, it was Peter’s, vehicle for wayward soccer clothes, empty Gatorade bottles and assorted and sundry Starbuck’s cups) and I saw the foliage. Isn’t it just so cool how nothing can deter the trees from putting on their fall fashion show, not an Ebola outbreak, a security breach in the White House secret service, ISIS. I never get tired of autumn’s cliche colors, red and orange leaves littering the streets, stately branches filled with Crayola color. You don’t have to do a thing to be part of this yearly show, except go outside and open your eyes. I will drive again today, and walk with a somewhat slow and wobbly gait (HALLELUJAH), and I will look at the trees, the spectacular trees and think how damn nice it is not to be in the house.
