Hello, Sunshine.

Oh, fall. You may be familiar with its work. It looks like this. Like this right here. This is front-and-back-doors-open weather. Cats-in-the-windows weather. Every time I make eye contact with the dog, who's not gone back to sleep for her morning/all-day nap, she picks her head up off the floor, looks at me as if to say, Hello? Have you not been outside? Isn't this dog-to-the-park weather? It is. It is. I'd mention other things, like how I can hear the first leafblower of the season, or the sixty dollars of prison farm pansies I bought yesterday, but there's no time. I have to go to the park. With the dog. Right now.

The Vieja Maple burns along.