My loved ones will be shocked to hear that sometimes I am thinking about nothing, nothing but the fact that I should have brought gloves.

I will say that yesterday morning’s sky seemed to be throwing pink popsicles.

And possibly cotton candy, or peach pie.  I remember that Sylvia Plath’s sunsets were “lemon, mango, peach” and how she poetically described the rising of the “round red watermelon sun.”

Then it occurs to me that it’s not good to think of Sylvia Plath at sunrise. We all know how that worked out.

In early November, an unseen hand will switch the big clock and we’ll all fall back to an early sun. Good-bye, peach pies in the dark…

…hello, bright crumb cake for breakfast!