Yesterday' pile is today's lawn.

The great bulk of oak leaves has been shipped out, and any remainder is garden compost.

Our regular morning loop walk today was interrupted about mid way by shotgun fire—but way, way off to the north. In spite of the distance Pax seemed convinced the apocalypse was at hand, and the final stretch to home became a mix of low slinking and attempts to hide under bushes. (That's what Pax was doing, not me.) How can a killer be so gun shy?

Mostly sunny, cool, calm day here on the first of November, with the barometer very high.

Homemade chicken soup tonight in honor of Sue's cold, which, while long avoided, has finally arrived.