Itís a fun time, a magic evening if youíre a kid,
and if youíre a grandpa-type guy, like me, who gets to hand out the
But the colors of this sweet evening celebration are orange and
black, and so is October. In another week or so, our deciduous trees
will stand like skeletons against the gray skies of winter, but now
we have the orange and black of fall.
It happens right about sunset each day. The sky turns that eternal
burnt-umber orange and the remaining leaves and the baring branches
of our trees fill the evening with a holy filigree of contrast.
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Oh, itís not something we need to do anything about.
Thereís no need for picture taking or anything. But itís just
something that we can step outside for Ö look toward the west
through the lacy pattern of black branches and for a moment, just a
short moment, say to ourselves, ďIsnít that pretty?Ē
If the paint store could sell me something that looked even close to
that for the walls of the little cabin I have, Iíd buy a gallon.
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