Autumn has moved past it’s glorious stage. Opulent colors in massive display are giving way to the subtler tones of black, silver and occasional reds. Raindrops cling to a barren dogwood outside my office window. The sun is slipping lower each day. The sky is bluer when it’s blue, and darker when it rains. We’re entering the land of contrast and sticks.

My Rockpool is sitting out among the grass and leaves as the rain washes off the river. Like a magician I will wave my hands over it’s hull and cut it into thirds. I will wipe it down and levitate it into the laundry room for a warm rest. I fear our next outing may be in chlorine.