Fall might be my favorite season because it challenges me to be in the now. If you think about what it signifies—everything dying back, the cold coming—you could easily spiral downward. But I meet Fall’s challenge head on. It’s the challenge to appreciate what is right before you, and not to be apprehensive about what’s coming or mournful that everything you love is dying, leaving, going dormant.
I take sunny cool autumnal Sundays like some people take recreational drugs. I wake up, take the measure of the day, and decide to go ahead and get high on it. It’s here, I’m here, why not? Love the day you’re with. Forget the things you should be doing. You can do those on crappy cold rainy November afternoons.
Harold's weekend getaway, probably the ultimate man-cave.
Farther on down, one of the many welljacks that stud this country. They're not new. We've been drilling shallow wells for oil and gas in Washington County for many years.
that alluring turn in the road. Who could stop here? It pulls me on and on.
There are many place where, in wet periods, one must ford the creek. No such problem now, just a matter of a couple of well-placed leaps.
I am so lucky to have a road like this, waiting for me an easy walk from my front door. Well, many people would think this much too far to walk to, much less down, but running has recalibrated my thinker.