Saturday, November 7, 2026, 55* F, 99% RH, 29.91 BP, 0633
Slurping sounds arise from the ground trying to remove my shoes. A lone oak, last to turn yellow, brown leaves like someone crumpling paper. Stream gained height, escaped carved boundaries without a night light. I did not hear rain; windowsill dry this morning. Window remains open. With the precision of a baker, raindrops hang off rows of siding like cake decorations.
Some days require us to find our own light.
Photo: LJ Austin
