Three, count them, three great treats on this bitter winter Saturday. First, my beloved Wayson is back from Vancouver, and we have had two catch-up visits already. But he is in serious writing mode now, under deadline for his next novel. He was also scared as he watched a dear aunt disintegrate with Alzheimer’s and by the too-early, too-fast death of his good friend Paul Quarrington. A man who’s had two near-death experiences, as he likes to point out, lives close to mortality’s edge in any case, but now he’s in a hurry. Got to get those stories out. So though he wants to see several of the same movies I want to see, we won’t go skipping off together, as we used to.
Though the weather continues sublime, I know it’s fall, because the garden is shutting down and suddenly there’s so much