dr. jones is hanging on the screen door, cross-eyed with concentration.

so I suppose I should stop searching in vain for something interesting or so dull it fascinates and just let him in, go to the store, and buy something or other for supper. it's a beautiful day, for november. the fallen leaves are wet from the rain of the last few days, and bright, especially the cherry leaves. I've started gathering them in bowls to perfume the shed, and the other night we had a nice fire outside and at the end when it was down to glowing coals, I piled wet cherry leaves on top and oh the sweet scent that floated up, in clouds, like the souls of leaves.