Wednesday, October 30, 2002

Under the gray skies of early winter rains that left ice upon late blooms and fallen leaves, it was the only spot of color for today. Foretelling a season some of us do not welcome except for the change it offers.

More poetic than I, my brother Dale, wrote about this time of year with these words. "Dawn separated itself from the night only by degrees of lessened grayness...The season of death is upon us." He may be right in his assertion that it is Hell defined.

And so we steel ourselves for the coming season, blessed to be reminded of the passing one.

jim